High Above Me
by Ms. AtomicBomb
Summary: A war has literally torn a country apart —France is not the European power it once was. That is until a young lady emerges from the ruins of her country; she claims God has sent her to deliver France from English wrath and crown Charles King. The struggles she must face can either make her stronger or destroy her. Jeanne must learn; one can never save a country with courage alone.
1. The Fateful Encounter

**Summary:** Francis Bonnefoy is making his way back to his estate when he comes across the most dreaded sight he has ever seen; an entire village was purged to the ground. He witnesses women's, children's, and men's scattered corpses. But from the midst of the living hell, came a weak figure. The Frenchman then becomes fond of the new young lady; Jeanne d'Arc. He takes her home and cares for her very deeply. Soon enough the Infanta of Spain, Francis' Fiancée, returns from her visit to Spain and also becomes fond of the new young lady. But what happens when Isabel is told that the young Lady is to save France? Will Jeanne ever live up to her fate? Or will she fail trying to bring peace between the two countries and finally end The Hundred Years' War? Human AU. Historical Medieval AU. _  
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**Possible Ships:** France x Joan of Arc (Franne), Frain, Jeanne x OC, Isabel x OC

**Warnings:** Talk of Religion: Catholicism (So if you cannot deal with the mentions of God, then you are free to leave; Considering this is a fic on Saint Jeanne d'Arc. Mentions of many deaths, rape, descriptive scenes, War.

**Dear readers,**

**Hello everyone and welcome to this story~! I have finally uploaded it. I am very excited to seen what you all think of this story, so please do write reviews and suggestions, as well as corrections. I, personally, feel very proud of this story (First one I have ever felt proud of) and I _really_ am hoping for you to like it. Again this is a historical Medieval AU, and we all know that back in the day they were very religious. I have read reviews on other stories in which people cannot stand the constant mention of God, if you are one of them, this may not be the story for you. Do keep in mind that Jeanne d'Arc is a Saint of the Catholic Church, so please do respect that fact. Either way she will be very different in the story than she was in real life. The early events in this FanFiction do not depict her life, they are from my imagination, However many of the battles will hold truth in respect to History and some OC's are real people; Beginning with the Duke of Alençon (Otherwise known as Beau Duc) and the Dauphin of France Charles.**

**Again, please do enjoy and review~!**

**Sincerely****, for the first time in High Above Me,**

**~Ms. Atomic Bomb**

* * *

Riding his horse all throughout the night, Francis still couldn't find any sign of life.

Only bloody limp bodies covered the grass floor. He was careful not to let his horse step on a single inch of the lifeless civilians.

"If anyone is out there, please answer me!" Francis proclaimed. Once again the horrid smell of rotten flesh filled the morning atmosphere. Francis couldn't stand this smell, or this sight.

The dreadful sight, it consisted of many but many horrid things. To begin with, the men of the town had slashes everywhere. Their faces stuck in timeless horror. The agony and pain they had died in reflected on their facial expressions. The women, on the contrary, had their chests exposed and some no longer possessed breasts, only a gory mess. By skimming the bodies, Francis also noticed that the women's skirts were ripped up to the waist and once again, blood stained their womanhood.

Francis could only look away in disgust. Was this really the work of his people? It couldn't be. Yet somewhere in his heart, Francis knew that it was done by what he wishes to protect.

"Please, anybody! Answer me!" Francis cried once more, tears streaming down his fragile face and his heart ached.

"Sil-vous-plait! Quel q'une! Please answer me!" But from the complete despair of what seemed like hell, nothing emerged.

Finally, the horrific smell of rotten flesh got to him and not taking the smells and sights any second longer; he hurled into the ashes that used to be rich green grass.

As Francis tried to rid himself of this sickness, he heard small noises that seemed rather unnatural. He immediately looked about and tried to focus on moving objects.

Out of the complete death, a figure stood and walked towards Francis.

Francis gasped and drew his sword. He was unsure of what the figure was. But seeing the way as to how the figure was walking, he could see they were weak and probably traumatized if not injured.

"Who are you?" Francis asked, projecting his voice louder than usually.

Sobbing filled Francis' ear and the figure stumble over the dead bodies, as they came closer.

"Answer me! Who are you?" Francis stood his ground.

And as the figure drew closer, he noticed it was a young lady, no older than sixteen or so. She was covered in mud and blood and her dress obtained slashes everywhere. Her cheeks were tear stained and her eyes were both glassy and swollen. She walked as if she was drunk and she seemed extremely weak. Her eyes were half lidded and her lips were chapped, having a crack of blood in them. She kept her hands hugging something around her neck, and her arms covering her half-exposed bosom. She coughed a bit as she came within feet of Francis, and he could not tell if the blood that lingered on her lips were from them being chapped or from her coughing up blood.

Finally reacting at the site before him, Francis sheathed his sword and ran to the girl before she fell to the floor.

As he looked into her obscured blue eyes, Francis could tell that she was unable to understand the situation. She was unsure if to scream and try to break from his arms, or fall into them with the remains of her life. Was he one of the Burgundians? Or was he her guardian angel?

"It'll be just fine, I'll take you to a safe place. You'll be safe." Francis mumbled as to assure her that she would be fine. And with that –with the assurance of what she understood was her guardian angel –she fainted.

Francis covered her with his cloak and carried her to his horse, where he had some trouble getting her on the horse itself. After succeeding, Francis was able to climb upon his horse and begin to slowly make his way to his city. He was unsure if he should just leave, considering that she might have not been the only one alive, but if he wanted the young girl to live, it was time to leave.

Upon arriving at his estate by evening, he was surrounded by his servants. His nurse emerged from the crowd and looked up at him. "Welcome home, Young Master. What have you brought with you?" She tilted her head at the sight of a passed out woman.

"On my return from Chinon, meeting with my cousin, I stumbled upon a destroyed village. It was the Burgundians' doing. As far as I know, this girl was the only spared. May you prepare a bed for her and some new clothes to change her into; I want to treat her with our best hospitality."

"Yes my lord." The nurse nodded and headed towards the mansion at once.

He looked down at his servants and smiled softly. "May you all prepare dinner, I hope for her to awaken soon and I want food ready for her." He ordered.

"Would you like help, my young master?" A stable boy asked, after looking at the unconscious woman.

"No thank you, I believe that I can take her to her room from here, but I would like for you to clean Lealia, and feed her too. Sorry for the trouble." Francis sighed.

"Do not worry master. I will do as you please." The stable boy nodded.

After dismounting his horse, Francis had a sort of a struggle getting her off the horse and then taking her to a room that his Nurse had prepared for her.

"Francis, are you positive that you found her?" His nurse looked at him.

Francis rose an eyebrow and mumbled a "What?"

"What I mean to say is are you sure that she is not some sort of-"

"I would really like you to respect this young lady, my dear nurse. I feel upset that you think of her as such. When I found her, she was weak and can you not see that she is not conscious?" Francis was bewildered.

"Young Master, I do not mean to offend you, but-"

"But nothing. I will not tolerate your behaviour towards our guest. If you will not help her recover, then I will have to find someone else, if not myself." Francis turned on his heel and left the room.

Walking back to his respective chambers he sighed and sat upon his bed. He looked at the bell above his head and rang it. Moments later a servant entered his room. "Yes my young lord?" A young lady bowed.

"I am very sorry that I am making you all work so hard, but may you please prepare a bath, darling." He smiled lightly. The young servant blushed a little at his tease and proceeded into preparing a bath. How could she not blush? Aside from the part that he was handsome, his cousin was the Dauphin of France after all.

After his bath was ready, Francis slipped into it and began his train of thought. He was unsure if the young lady he had brought home would want to recall the horrid events of her past, meaning he was unsure if he wanted to ask her for any details. But if he wanted to help her, she needed to co-operate with him. Without her co-operation, helping her would go nowhere.

He thought about how she looked this morning; her face pale and on the verge of death, her eyes obscure, her lips chapped, her dress torn, her skin bruised and cut, her hair dirty, her nails broken and muddied, her feet scratched and covered in blood -probably not her own-, her figure skinny and her legs weak.

He wished to never see a girl so destroyed again. She looked too innocent to deserve such a fate. But then again, Life nowadays was life, and if you did not live in the riches, you would never get out of such a lowly life unless you were married into it, which barely happened between nobles and commoners.

* * *

Days went by and the young lady still had not awoken, she lay sleeping in her bed, without anyone disturbing her ever so often. On occasion, when Francis was not at a meeting or attending an event, he would slip into her room and wait until, hopefully, she would open her eyes.

After his nurse had cleaned her up, Francis was finally able so actually see her face. Although her eyes were still quite swollen, and her lips still sprung quite a bit of blood.

He stood from the seat below the window at the north end of the room, opposite to the mahogany door and to the left of the king sized royal purple bed.

Walking out of the room, he sighed, for she had still not awakened. It felt as if she would never wake up and he would never get to talk to her.

Sighing loudly and shaking his head, Francis walked out of the young lady's room and proceeded to attending the meeting that he had arranged for some Generals.  
"Nurse," Francis called upon, stepping out of the room, "inform me when she awakes. No matter what I am doing..."

"Yes my young lord." She nodded.

After arriving at the meeting room, he sat in his chair that laid above all the rest of the seats surrounding the huge circular table and awaited the rest of the members. When all the generals had arrived, the meeting was in session.

"Personally, I believe that if we move up from the Seine then we would be ambushed, and do you not agree that we should be fighting for Orléans rather than Rouen?" A general stood against another, with Francis finally tuning in his attention to the meeting rather than the young lady.

Francis looked upon the generals for their thoughts. Without a word from anyone he began. "Rouen does seem like a risky idea. What I mean to say is that it makes no sense for us to take a risk in Rouen when Orléans needs us more. I just do not quite understand as to why you all thought of Rouen first. It is a horrible idea to begin with..." Francis sighed. He never liked politics but if he wanted to keep his country alive; he needed to put his mind and soul into it.

"But sir, it was the Dauphin's -"

"I apologize for interrupting, my good lord, but she has awoken." Francis' nurse opened the door unexpectedly, causing a commotion about the generals.

"I rule an hour's break. Meet back here in exactly sixty minutes, after so, we will presume the meeting." Francis stood from his seat and raced out the door, after biding quick farewells (of course leaving the generals dumbfounded).

Dashing into her room swiftly, Francis laid his sapphire orbs upon the sitting female.

She looked startled and scared as he approached her.

"Mon ange, you're finally awake." Francis grinned, his long blond locks falling ever so perfectly around his face.

"W-who are you?" She tilted her head slightly to the right.

"Oh, my name is Francis Bonnefoy, I brought you home with me after I found you in your torn down village." He began.

"Is this your estate?" She mumbled.

"Ah oui, c'est ma maison..." Francis wandered. "I'm sorry to ask, but what is your name?" He questioned.

"Mon nom?" The girl raised a blond eyebrow.

"Oui, ton nom." Francis insisted.

"But you are a stranger to me... Since you have taken good care of me, I shall repay you with my name and some labour, but as soon as I pay off, I should be on my way." She put her manners first.

"Non, no labour, you've been through a lot. All I wish to earn from you is your name and some information about what happened."

"What happened about what?" Her eyes were filled with confusion.

"Ah... Oh... You don't quite recall as to why you're here, do you?" Francis questioned.

"In actuality, with my most sincerity, I do not recall as to why I am at your estate at all. I am very confused..."

"Oh... Well, would you like me to explain to you, or rather you remember?"

"I would rather remember, my good sir. I am deeply sorry." She nodded, wishing to stand and give a deep curtsy.

"Do not fret, mon amour." Francis let his award-winning smile slip. He really did fancy her.

Aside the fact as to where he had found her, Francis felt like she could be with him for a while. He put aside the other fact that he was of royal blood and for all he knew she was a peasant, but she was lovely.

She seemed to be very well educated for her class, and she was rather beautiful; a quality none really possessed nowadays. Considering they were at war and all the beautiful women were either married, dead, or raped.

"My good sir, what would you like me to do?" The young lady questioned from the bed.

Ignoring her question and raising an eyebrow, he turned to her "Are you a virgin?" Francis asked.

Jeanne was rather taken aback by the sudden questioned and quite offended by it, to be frank.

"With all due respect sir, but should you really be asking a lady this question? Do I look like a prostitute to you?" She was bewildered.

"I do not mean to offend you, milady. Rather I am trying to understand you. One does not need to be a prostitute to not be a virgin; _that_ is actually quite offensive. What I should have asked was if you were married." Francis reworded.

"No I am not married and I am indeed a virgin." Now Jeanne was dumbfounded.

"Well then, that rules out the option that you are a witch, for virgins cannot be taken by Satan, and thus meaning you are still innocent, to certain things at least." Francis recalled the gory scene.

"A witch? Why on earth would you think that I was witch? It makes absolutely no sense... Unless it has to do with why I am here..."

"But if you wish to remember as to why you came to stumble upon this situation, I think that I should leave your memory to yourself, because I am not sure as to why I found you to begin with." Francis sat on the same seat as before, the one under the window, and then decided to look out the window as he paid attention to the sweet sound of her voice.

"Who exactly are you, milord?" The young lady pondered.

"Francis Bonnefoy." He answered, still listening to her voice and barely hearing her words.

"Yes, I do know that, but I mean-"

"Cousin of the Dauphin. His right hand man, his eyes, his ears, his mouth. I am the Dauphin's trustworthy slave, of which happens to be his cousin. I may be of royal blood, but I do no act as if it is so." Francis' blue eyes sparkled a little, hoping she would be impressed.

"T-the D-D-Dauphin's cousin!" She proclaimed, trying to quickly get off of the bed to kneel and sadly not succeeding without a groan or cry of pain.

"No!" Francis stood from the chair and ran to the girl after hearing the painful cry. "No need to kneel at all. I did just mention that I never act like a royal? Please don't strain yourself, dear." He hurried to her side and helped her back onto the bed for she had tried her best to bow before him.

"But that would be very rude of me, your grace." She mumbled.

"No, it is not. Please don't treat me like I am a royal. In my eyes, everyone is equal." Francis smiled.

"My name is Jeanette d'Arc, but I prefer to be called Jeanne, your grace." She suddenly remembered his request.

Francis smiled softly. "Jeanne..." He let it slip from his soft lips. "I fancy your name quite a lot, milady." He looked at her in the eyes, curling the end of his lips just a little more, to give off a small grin.

Jeanne sat on the bed still, not moving an inch, not even breathing. She held her breath tight and looked at the male with wide blue eyes. A soft blush creeping on her cheeks.

"Do you at least like my name?" Francis sat on the bed next to her.

"Of course, your grace. It reminds me of Saint Francis, of which I very much look up to. And since it is your grace's name then it is even more suitable." Jeanne bobbed her blonde head.

"No, I don't mean if it is suitable, I am asking if you like my name. As in, is it a nice name?" He chuckled lightly, his features lighting up with joy.

"Oui, j'aime le nom Francis."

"You're not just saying that because I'm royal, right? I want to know your honest opinion."

"Yes, your grace, I do like your name." She nodded once more.

"Please don't call me that. My name is Francis, and that is how I prefer it. You don't want me to call you Jeanette or little peasant, now do you?" Francis raised a blonde eyebrow.

"I apologize my good sir."

"Francis." He corrected.

"Francis." She whispered, almost going unheard.

The Frenchman smiled brightly and stood from the bed. "As much as I would like to remain in this room talking to you, I need to attend my meeting, since I stopped it to come see you." He sighed. Had it almost been sixty minutes?

Jeanne watched as he began to make his way to the door. But as she watched him walk away, her vision seemed to shift scenarios. No longer was she sitting on the bed that Sir Francis had prepared for her, but rather she was on the muddy ground, houses burned all around her and ashes filled the night's sky along with children's and women's screams of horror.

An armed man came before her and knelt down to meet her gaze with hungry lustful eyes.

Immediately she knew what was about to happen, and with all the energy she had left, she screamed.

Finally switching back to the current scenario, she felt her body spring out of the bed and run towards the departing Frenchman. She flung onto him and screamed for him to remain.

Francis was caught off guard. He had just heard a blood curling scream from the girl and once he felt slender arms wrapping around his torso, he was bewildered. Just a second ago she kept true to her manners, and now she was rather informal, not that he minded at all.

"Please stay." She muffled into his back.

"Are you feeling fine?" Francis mumbled, although he knew the answer.

Ignoring her cuts and bruises, she held unto him tightly, making sure he wouldn't leave her alone.

Francis sighed and looked down at the girl's hands, seeing as they were intertwined around his upper abdomen.

"I'll stay with you, just wait a second." He smiled, she couldn't see it but she could hear it.

"No. Don't leave." She pleaded again, seeing that he was still going to open the door.

"I'm not leaving, Jeanne, I'm only going to tell my nurse to cancel the meeting. It will only take a few seconds, and I promise, after that I'll stay with you." Francis stated.

"They're going to find me... Please stay." Her voice cracked.

"Nurse!" Francis called. "Cancel the meeting for today." He added before the nurse went into the room.

"For what reason?" His nurse asked from the other side of the door, knowing better than to enter.

"Inform them that I had to attend some rather important matters." He replied then, after a few seconds, he heard her footsteps as they left.

"Well, Jeanne, who is it that's coming after you?" Francis shuffled in her arms a bit to finally face her.

Jeanne was silent for a long time, she didn't even move. She only stood, hugging the royal and clinging to him.

"The soldiers..." She finally hushed.

Francis looked down at her for a little while, he then made his own arms wrap securely around her. "The soldiers won't get to you. I promise that I'll protect you."

With quick realization of what she was doing all along, Jeanne let go of Francis and fell to the floor. Her knees were not able to hold her weight any longer, considering the state they were in, she also realized that she looked like some kind of floozy, holding on to the royal.

"Jeanne!" Francis fell to his knees to meet her at the floor, sadly this time around, he didn't catch her and she hit the ground hard.

There was a screech of pain that filled the room, before Francis lifted the girl from the floor and brought her over to the bed; gently leaving her on top of it, careful not to hurt her wounds.

"No! You didn't have to leave me here; you should have left me there. I should have gotten up by myself." She felt horrible for making a royal lift her and bring her to the bed. Royals shouldn't be breaking a nail over a weak peasant like her.

"Jeanne, you are a guest at my house and I need to treat you with utmost respect, okay?" He spoke, assuring her not to alert herself.

"I'm very sorry, but please stay here. If you don't, the soldiers are going to-"

Not being able to finish, a soldier (one of Francis' personal guards) ran into the room.

Immediately, Jeanne let out a horrible scream as she tried to hide in the covers of the bed, making Francis and the soldier quite confused.

Francis looked at his soldier, of which was alarmed beyond belief but seemed to be panting.

"Your grace, General Timmons has been killed." The soldier shook to reality, forgetting about the girl and focusing on his original task.

Francis' eyes grew wider. "I'll be right there." He confirmed, and the soldier disappeared behind the door.

Francis turned to Jeanne and kissed the top of her head, as if to calm her down. "I apologize for that and for me having to leave in such a hurry, would you like for me to get someone to protect you, or rather you stay alone interrupted?"

Jeanne emerged from the bed covers, processing that the soldier who entered her room had no intention of hurting her, but rather alerted her of danger.

"I wish to wait until you return, in solitude. In the meanwhile, try to remember as to why I am here." Jeanne's blue orbs looked into Francis'.

"Agreed. I will instruct the servants to not let anyone other than my nurse and me to enter." Francis whispered before leaving the room and doing as he had said.

Francis scurried to the threshold of his estate and got in the carriage to be taken to the scene of the crime. How was it that his only Scottish general was killed? And only a little while ago he was sitting next to him at the meeting. Damn it! If only he hadn't canceled the idiotic meeting.

Upon arriving at the crime scene, Francis stepped out of the carriage to see his now deceased friend.

"Your grace, you are here."

"Yes, anyway, how did this come to be?" Francis ignored the greeting and got down to the nitty gritty.

"All we know is that he got down from his horse and seconds later he was stabbed by a French male." The investigator reported.

"A Frenchman? What profession?" Francis asked, seeing that his old friend was dead, an arrow protruding from his back. At the angle that the arrow pierced, it surely had his heart.

* * *

In the mean while, Jeanne sat still and looked straight at the portrait of a young lady in front of her. In the portrait the woman wore a sweet empire red dress, highlighting her sweet upper curves. Her hair was dark red and her skin softly sun kissed. A soft pink adorned her lips as pearls bejewelled her neck line while she sat straight; her body facing a forty degree angle to her left but her face stared straight, there was a small smile gracing her lips, as if she were shy or she were sad.

There was something off about this lady, and for some reason Jeanne felt a little jealous of her. She was not really sure why exactly, but she felt that she needed to be jealous of her. It was not because the lady was obviously noble or rich, and Jeanne was a simple peasant, or because the lady was gorgeous and was plump in places that needed to be, while Jeanne on the other hand, was too thin for comfort and not plump where needed be. Jeanne's breasts weren't full, but they still didn't need to be, she was sixteen after all, and she didn't posses an hour glass shape that every man wanted, she had many flaws in order to be a perfect girl, not to mention Jeanne had cuts and bruises covering the majority of her body. Despite Jeanne's appearance or economical state, she wasn't jealous of this woman because of such things, but rather for a more significant reason.

Completely trying to ignore the portrait of the person in front of her, she focused more on trying to remember what had happened, but seeing that nothing had returned to her, she decided to gather up the only remaining strength she had a decided to take a little trip around the manor, to get acquainted of where she was currently staying.

Standing up from the bed that was given to her for her to recover, she quickly slipped into a night gown that sat by the bed and limped to the door. She knew that she was not allowed to wander the halls but she was very tempted, if anything she would leave right away.

Walking down the rather large hallway, she tried not to bump into the many birch or maple tables that contained valuable items, although it was hard with her limping and tumbling.

Slowly and cautiously, Jeanne limped down the stairs and looked around the rather huge entrance. She could have sworn the she was probably in a castle of some sort. The doors were about twenty feet high, made out of mahogany wood, with a soaring ceiling which held a huge chandelier; possibly made out of gold, if Jeanne's eyes didn't deceive her. And the stairs had been grand, two wings coming from opposite sides then meeting in the middle to form a platform and another staircase facing the entrance.

There were flower pots hanging from the stair rails and from the walls, along with more lights here and there (everywhere) to light up the room, as well as stained glass windows of either religious figures or political heads. This allowed for natural light to enter the manor.

There were coat racks by the door and banners around the walls. Most consisted of crests and Fleur de lis. And a red carpet covered all. But above the platform, a grand painting of a family sat untouched. A woman sat with a navy blue dress, holding a child on her lap, and a man standing to the right of them. Jeanne wished to know who they were but she was not sure if to ever ask.

She then walked to the kitchen, where many chefs and cooks were preparing dinner. Then to the dining room, of which was full of butlers preparing the table. Seeing that there was no purpose for her, she left the main floor, and slowly headed back up the stairs, to hopefully find the room she was using.

Thinking she had arrived to her destination, she opened a door to find a completely different room. The chambers she had stumbled upon were fancier than hers; the bed was grand and splashed with a royal purple and golden Fleur de Lis. It was spectacular and overwhelming. A window on the right side of the bed was stained glass with a figure of Jesus, while the one on the left (being enormous) was clear. And the view was extraordinary; vast land of trees and fields for miles and miles.

She softly bit her bottom lip in amazement. This was surreal. There were gold frames with gorgeous landscapes painted in their canvases and light torches to be lit in the evening. There was a couch at the foot of the bed and a desk in the right most far corner from the door. Upon a night stand next to the bed, a Rosary and mini statue of Mother Mary perched themselves, and on the desk a crucifix was steadied.

She softly smiled and headed to the desk in order to feel the crucifix in her small hands. But as she went to pick it up, it didn't detach from the mahogany table. She tried once more and had pushed it back; that was when it had lifted off the table only to reveal a secret entry way next to her.

Gasping lightly, Jeanne looked inside the entry way and tried to close it. Yet in the failure of doing so, she tripped into the dark hall way. Not being able to see a thing; she continued down the hall, a long staircase and another long hallway until she hit what felt like another doorway. Placing her delicate hands on the cold metal knob of the door, she slowly turned it; only to reveal a lovely room.

One huge window spread across the other three walls of the room; letting sunshine pour everywhere like wine in a tavern. There were fancy couches with designs of roses and vines. They were clearly silk or cashmere; Jeanne was not well familiar with expensive fabrics so she was not sure.

There was a desk in the opposed end to the door, and it was clearly expensive as well. By the door a violin sat still and a music stand right next to it.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of the room, there were tears in her sapphire orbs. Though once she saw that on the coffee table a Holy Bible and Rosary sat; she was moved to short sobs. That was lovely. He had so much love for God. This was amazing.

After suppressing her overwhelming tears, she looked around the room and decided to take a look around it. On the desk a silver locket perched neatly.

As she opened it, a portrait of a young lady appeared. The exact same young lady as the one painted on the portrait in her room. Who was she?

Looking at the other half of the locket she could see words. If only she knew how to read and write. Since she was too poor to attend school, she never learned how to do so and it always upset her because she had heard how beautiful stories and books were. How they could take you on journeys and adventures that would be impossible for a simple peasant to do so.

She sighed heavily and looked sadly upon the locket having a mixed feeling of God knows what. Jeanne then shoved the locket into a pocket in the robe and stumbled out of the room. She cautiously stepped down the stairs and left the secret room, placing the crucifix back on the desk properly in order to close the door.

As she walked slowly to the door, it was opened lazily.

Jeanne shut her eyes tightly and gasped; preparing to begin crying for she knew she would get in deep trouble.

"Jeanne?" The French voice was familiar and quite confused.

Jeanne opened her eyes to see a puzzled Francis. His blond eyebrows furrowed above his blue eyes and his head tilted to his right; a little frown forming upon his lips. "What are you doing here?" He mumbled.

"I-I-I..." Jeanne fumbled for an excuse. "I w-was going to get a drink of water but when I reached the kitchen, everyone was preparing dinner. I didn't want to interrupt so I came back upstairs and thinking this was my room, I entered. But since it was not I turned to leave and you came in..." She played with her hands slightly.

"Ah, would you like me to take you back to your chambers, or would you rather stay here?" He flirted a little, winking at the end.

Jeanne turned a deep crimson and shook her blonde head. "I-I would l-like t-to return to my chambers, your grace."

Francis chuckled slightly and nodded. "Alright then, follow me dear." He beckoned as he left the room.

Jeanne mumbled a 'forgive me' up to the heavens for slightly lying, then continued after the blond male.

Upon reaching her room, they both entered and Francis spotted Jeanne glancing at the portrait.

"Francis..." Jeanne began.

"Yes my dear?" He smiled.

"Who is that lady in the picture?" Jeanne decided to ask as she sat on the bed.

Francis walked to her and sat right next to her, their thighs touching. He sighed loudly and looked at the portrait himself.

"She is my betrothed. She's spending three months in Spain with her family and is coming back in around two."

"Your fiancée? She's beautiful. No wonder you love her."

"It was actually an arranged marriage. We've been best friends since we were children, although she had to turn more ladylike, we did lots of stuff together. Then they had told us that we were engaged, and we had to comply." Francis explained.

"Ah, so you don't love her?" Jeanne mumbled.

"It's not that I don't love her. I love her very much. She and I have gone through a lot together. I really appreciate and adore her. She has been with me through many tough times in my life and she is amazing for that. She has never actually left my side..."

"She sounds really lovely."

"Oh but she is! Other than being a total beauty, she's extremely sweet and nice, although people might see that as a flaw. She's very understanding and oh so caring. Her smile one of the brightest, her lips some of the softest, she is incredible."

"You really love her, non?"

"Yes, I guess I do... But I feel like I also love someone else..." Francis blushed slightly.

"Someone else?" Jeanne raised a blond eyebrow, oh wasn't this complicated.

"I recently met her, so I am not exactly sure if I do or if I don't. But she's lovely as well. She hasn't smiled yet, so I can not compare her smile to that of Isabel, but I'm almost completely sure that they both have exceptional smiles. But either way, I really fancy the other." His blue orbs were fixated on the wall in front of them as he bragged on about his new found love.

"Whom ever you choose will not let you down, they both sound lovely. But the new one hasn't smiled... I don't think that's a good sign. I suggest you stay with your Fiancée." Jeanne gave him advice.

"It's not that she doesn't smile, it is that she has nothing to smile about, for her life is not in the right state." Francis reasoned.

"Then you'll have to make her smile and see who the one for you is. But I don't want your fiancée to be alone so it is best that you put her needs first."

"Isabel is always selfless. She has no needs and if she did she would not tell."

"Think hard, I am not in your situation so I won't say much, but you have known your fiancée for so long, your entire life in fact. And you've only known this other lady for a little while. You don't even know her intentions. If I was in your shoes, I would trust your fiancée more until I knew who this lady was." Jeanne smiled, giving him a reason to trust her.

"Thank you Jeanne, you've been much help, dear. You're a real beauty." He said as he stood and kissed her forehead. "I'm glad that you are by my side."

Jeanne blushed a deep crimson as he had finished and nodded lightly. "Y-you're welc-come?" She managed to stutter something out.

Francis chuckled a little; she was too cute for words. Oh dear Lord.

"Well, dear, until the morrow. Oh no, actually until dinner time, I'll see you there." He winked and blew her a kiss as he left the room.

Walking back to his room, he smiled. He was going to enter the secret room before he decided to take a look around and check if Jeanne had pushed something off the shelves or anything, not that he cared.

After not finding anything, he proceeded into sitting down on his bed. There was nothing he really needed to do at the moment, since his investigator was trying to figure out the incident. Thus, out of boredom, he was going to practice his violin where no one could hear him.

There was a reason as to why he had a secret room in the first place. He loved to escape from the world every now and then, whether it was to play music or to write to his betrothed. He felt more at peace with himself if he was far from his problems an only thought about the three essentials of his life; Faith, Love and Music.

Moving the crucifix slowly, he entered the hallway with a candle and carefully ascended the stairs.

Finally reaching the room, he entered and picked up his violin. What was he going to play? Possibly just make up a composition on the spot… yes; that could work.

Lightly letting his fingers touch the strings he began to think; what was going to happen to Jeanne? He did not want to kick her out of his estate at all. If he did, where would she go? Her family was dead, her village was destroyed, and her hope was probably shattered as well. But with his fiancée coming home soon, he was unsure if she would accept a stranger into their home.

Deciding on finally playing, he began by mimicking something he had heard in the tavern the other day. It was a rather simple melody, where little note changes occurred and practically no thrilling beats. Only by slowing the melody down, he was able to make the song seem depressing and not really up beat and happy go lucky as it once was.

His playing slowed down even more so that the music died down. Francis adored the music that people made, but he loved altering it more than anything. He could twist the notes to his hearts content and he liked that.

The following week, Jeanne was able to walk and speak properly, of which was when he noticed that the peasant girl was not able to read or write. Of course this was all too surprising for him for her French was near perfect. Despite her slight country accent, and forgetfulness, her French was extraordinary. After finding out her little secret, he wished to help her with learning, since she was still rather young, she could learn quite fast. He started with the alphabet. Then dictated a sentence in which she would write down after he was finished. And within a month and half she had done rather well. He also learnt that Jeanne only knew how to write in Latin; and only the prayers at that.

"Well, thus far you are doing exceptionally well, ma chérie." Francis smiled brightly as they walked in the gardens of his manor.

"Merci." She smiled; her walk still a little wobbly and some bruises still remained.

In all honesty, Francis was getting quite worried, for her bruises were not yet completely gone, and some scars still covered her skin.

"How are you doing nowadays? Are you recalling anything from your past?" Francis sat down on a stone bench and patted the seat next to him, calling her to sit next to him.

Jeanne shook her head and stood in front of him, she did not fancy seating at this time; the sun was high up in the sky and a soft breeze kissed the trees, the leaves swayed back and forth passing on secrets and whispering to one another.

"I have not recalled anything yet..." She mumbled, of course she lied. She had actually recalled quite a lot of things. Starting with who her family was and what had happened for her to be the only to survive from her village. In reality, she remembered almost everything, but she refrained from telling Francis for she knew he would get protective over the matter.

"Oh... I was really hoping you would, for I want to know what occurred with your village." He sighed loudly. This was getting quite frustrating and it wasn't going to get better any time soon.

"I'm sorry; it is only that nothing has been able to restore my memory."

"No, do not fret; I do not mind waiting a little longer."

Jeanne smiled down at him and decided to finally sit next to him and thought for a little while. Sooner or later she would have to tell him, but right now wasn't the best time.

"Sir, there is someone here to see you." A soldier had finally found them after hearing they were in the gardens.

"Whom?" Francis stood from the bench and questioned the soldier.

"D'Alençon, sir."

"Oh, alright then. Jeanne, wait here for a little while, possibly it would only take seconds anyways." He smiled.

Jeanne smiled and nodded at the Frenchman, after her approval, she watched him walk away with the soldier and disappear into the Manor.

Looking back up the sky, she thought about how beautiful the day was. Yet as she thought about the beauty, the emptiness came to mind.

"Jeanne." She was snapped back to reality by Francis' voice.

Jeanne shook her head as if to push her memories aside. She searched around for the young man and finally found him as he came with another man trailing along.

"Francis." She stood.

"This is my cousin, Jean d'Alençon." He stated.

"Hello, Jeanne d'Arc." The man went to bow but Jeanne had beaten him to it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, duc." She stated.

As she lifted her head to meet him once more, a smile was evident on his light handsome features.

"And it is most certainly a great pleasure to meet you. Believe it or not, my little cousin here has been talking about you non-stop. Sending me letters every other day telling me how you have been doing. It's rather sweet if you ask me, he's getting his mind off of the war because he has found a sweet girl to take care of. So I really should be in your dept for that." D'Alençon spoke.

"He has? Oh my, I'm rather flattered." She giggled as a blush grew on her cheeks.

"Well, you seem rather important to him. I do not blame him for you are a rather beautiful young lady." The duke laughed.

"Thank you very much." Jeanne blushed even deeper.

"To be frank, why did you even agree to stay with a loser like my cousin, darling?"

Jeanne giggled catching the tease and shrugged. "Who else might have wanted to take me in, if it were not for your dear cousin, mon duc?"

"Well, I feel that I would be a better choice, do you not agree?"

Jeanne smiled brightly. "I'm not quite sure." She giggled seeing that Jean and Francis were not too different with their charms.

"Yes, that is all too amusing as I am standing before you both..." Francis sighed loudly seeing as they were not only talking about him, but flirting as well.

"Ah yes, I was caught up in her beauty so much that I had forgotten you were even present." D'Alençon shot a smug look at Francis, knowing that Jeanne was blushing by now.

"Let us head back inside, no Jeanne?" Francis ignored his cousin.

"Ah yes..." Jeanne nodded, although she did want to remain out side for a little while longer for she really adored the beautiful nature that engulfed her.

"Then off we go." Francis smiled and made hand in to a soft fist hovering over the bottom of his chest so that she would hook her arm around his; of which she did.

"Jeanne, do wish to take a drink with me? I would be honoured to have a goblet of wine with you, my dear." D'Alençon smiled after they had finished dinner.

The day had gone so fast after they had entered the manor and heard the band play some songs as they discussed stories of their life; some that Jeanne did not tell because she did not remember.

"Well, it is getting rather late and I am afraid that I must go to bed." Jeanne smiled sorrowfully. "Although I would really want to, I am too tired, and I must get my bandages changed as well as take a bath. A girl must go through many preparations before going to bed, and I must fulfil those if I am going to live in this manor for a little while longer until I recover in order to even begin to repay Francis for his amazing hospitality and generosity."

"Oh, alright then. Until the morrow, my dear." Jean d'Alençon stood, and as did Francis as she also stood to leave.

"Until the morrow." She nodded and with that, exited the room and ascended the stairs.

There had been a long silence between the two males as they gazed at one another waiting for the other to say some thing.

"Well," They both simultaneously spoke.

"The guest shall speak first." Francis smiled.

"Oh little cousin of mine, why are you being so formal? Je suis ton cousin, pourquoi est-ce que tu ne me parle comme si je suis ça?"

"Parce que, c'est ça. We are royalty, we should act so." Francis sighed.

It had only been until recently that he had started to act so, the dauphin had gotten rather disappointed with his informality in front of officials that he had become so upset as to stop all informality.

"You're starting to sound like Charles..." Jean smiled sadly. He liked his younger cousin being the flirt and idiot of the group. The one who always kept happy and never let anyone down, but after something had happened, Jean knew that Francis was not being formal on his own account.

"Is that meant to be an insult, Jean?"

"Not the slightest... I am simply speaking my mind." Jean always spoke what was on his mind, but he was always in good thoughts and thus his words were always kind. Since he also thought of Francis like his younger brother, he always wanted to protect him from things, and he considered a change of personality a threat.

"Jeanne is rather nice."

"Yes, it is in her nature."

"Listen little cousin, she's a very pretty and pure girl, but there is something she's keeping from you for your own good. When you find out what it is, as I myself do not know, do not become angry with her. She wishes for you to rest easy..."

"What do you mean?"

"Since she appreciates your hospitality, she wants to make things up to you by not letting you know much about her..."

"I guess so, but she should not be afraid to tell me anything." Francis took a sip of his wine.

"She is not afraid, she is protecting you. And I feel that is a good thing. When Isabel comes around, introduce them and let them talk, I'm sure they will get along rather lovely." Jean smiled softly. "Anyhow, I should be off, I must be in Chinon in and around four days..."

"Alright. Have a good evening, and Bon Chance avec son voyage."

It was quite late when he had left but it was better to leave at this time rather than in the morning hours for he would be late for his meeting with the dauphin.

After his leave, at midnight, around possibly 3 in the morning, Jeanne had descended the stairs once more yet this time she was not conscious.

Her figure made its way to the grand hall, and there she sat right in the middle of it and began to tell a story.

The story was about a young girl of which sat in the middle of a field of tall lilies, her hair was long and golden, and her eyes a sweet sapphire shade. She was rather young, but very hard working. She would help her mother with house chores and help her father with the harvest; which was the reason to her golden tan that covered her freckles certain times of the year.

But as she sat in the middle of that lily field to relax, there was a horrendous sound and the lilies all ironically transformed into men of the French army, and the beautiful field was now a battle field.

Birds were replaced with arrows and water was replaced with blood and sweat. Tweeting birds and the summer breeze were now clashing swords and cries of men.

The girl looked down at her form to see her white dress replaced with bloody armour, her hair cut short, and her heart had sunk. She felt rather mature for her age and as if she carried the world on her shoulders.

Her smile was turned into a line in order to not demonstrate all her feelings for this sudden change.

"That is the story of a young girl named Jeannette d'Arc; that is her fate..." That was how Jeanne herself had ended the story.

By now, a couple of people had gathered by the doorway to hear her lovely worded story.

"Jeanne?" The voice of her saviour came from within the crowd.

Her voice had been loud yet gentle, everyone in the household had heard her but it was a disrupting voice, it was tender.

"That is Jeannette d'Arc's fate." She stood but her voice all in different tones, and not her own, yet the voice was still gentle and full of love, there was nothing wrong with it. The voice was divine and oh so loving.

"Jeanne?" The man repeated her name for he knew what had just occurred.

"Jeannette is a daughter of God, and she shall be great." The young lady's mouth moved but it still was not her voice. "Take care of God's chosen one until it is time." And with that, the lovely voice had ceased to exist.

The lights had flickered as a dash of warm air had hit them.

By now, when everyone had finally focused on the girl, she was on the floor, neatly sleeping in serenity. Her figure so neatly placed as if a mother had slowly put her down, making sure not ti harm her.

"Jeanne..." Francis hurried to her quickly, wishing to wake her to see if she were fine and by no means harmed.

"Jeanne," he shook her lightly, "Jeanne..."

Her blue orbs slowly opened with patience. The ocean within them awoke so tenderly that it seemed as if the waves were softly caressing the sand that was her soft skin.

"Jeanne..." He whispered softly for he was relieved that she opened her eyes.

"Why am I here?" She looked up at him, her orbs half lidded with a dumbfound and tired expression, one which made a certain Frenchman uneasy for he believed she looked divine.

"How about we take you to your room, you'd really want that. We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?" His voice was so gentle that it made her fall deep asleep with seconds of his statement.

Francis stood from the floor with the sleeping girl in his arms and stepped out of the grand room and dismissed everyone as he went to take the beauty to her chambers.

"You are rather strange. I do not understand as to why I have even kept you. You seem like an enormous trouble because of these little things that have been occurring around this castle.

"Not to mention, you seem to keep hiding something from me and either that has to do with that voice or your past, or possibly both." Francis had finally entered his chambers.

He laid her upon his bed and covered her with the sheets so that she would not get cold. Instead of sleeping, he hurried into his secret room and onto the desk.

He needed to keep track of these things, there was no way that he would let this go. His hand hurried for the quill as he grabbed his journal and began to write down all that had occurred both that day and evening.

He remained in this chamber for the rest of the night both writing a letter to Isabel and his journal.

The sky had begun to lighten up when he noticed what time it truly was, causing him to yawn in exhaustion and stretch a couple of times.

He came to his senses when he had finally looked at the rising sun, and thus he rubbed his eyes and stood from the leather seat.

He carefully and quietly made his way out of the secret chamber and slipped into his room.

Noting that a certain female had remained sleeping in his bed, he couldn't help but form a slight smile with his lips.

Her long blond strands spread themselves over the pillow so swiftly, her eyes so tenderly closed and her lips slightly parted. If it weren't for the fact that he knew she wasn't, he could have believed she was an angel.

He looked down at the floor and thought of Isabel, she was just as lovely as the girl (possibly even lovelier at times). Unlike Jeanne, Isabel had her body well developed already, making her curves more appealing to the eye, her long brown hair reached up to her waist but it was always brought up in different styles, while her piercing green eyes had always been shiny.

The Spaniard had lots of knowledge and love for the French language but she still possessed quite a Spanish accent.

Francis walked out of the room after changing into his riding clothes and fixing himself to look as handsome as possible. The Frenchman had a rather strong passion for fashion. He loved the newest fad, or the newest style to be a hit. Pop-y colours always seemed to be liked by everyone, and Francis was one of those people. Therefore, his riding clothes were very top-notch snobbish clothing.

The jacket was red polyester as his pants were black, having a some sort of poof at his thighs, and finally black riding boots. In all honesty, the man could look great in anything he wore, whether it was peasant clothing or clothing for a king. Even without anything on the man was handsome.

"Nurse!" Francis called as he descended the stairs, yawning afterwards.

Seconds later, his nurse came within view and he smiled.

"Jeanne is in my room, make sure none of the maids get to her before you do. Take her to her respective chambers and let her sleep a while longer." Francis explained his wishes.

"Yes, milord." His nurse bowed and proceeded to his chambers as Francis went the opposite way in order to reach the stables quickly.

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**I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter! Seeing as how all my chapters for this story will roughly be this long, I will be updating this story every three weeks or so. I also have the next two chapters pre-written so that I will not be behind in updates. Thank you very much for reading this Chapter and I hope you stick around for the rest of the story as it begins to unfold and hopefully turn out to be one of the best stories you have read. Happy Easter and have an Amazing week! Good luck to you all~! May you all have a great week at school and/ or work! I hope that it will turn out to be a great week and see you in three weeks :$**

**Do not forget to Review and Favourite, everything is appreciated ;)**


	2. Whispers in Court as the House Speaks

**Hello everyone and welcome back to High Above Me. It has been three weeks, right? ;)  
**

**Anyways, thank you for returning and I hope you have like that story thus far. This chapter shall be slightly promising for it begins to set the stage to our next hero. And yeah~! Enjoy :)**

**Sincerely,**

**~Ms. Atomic Bomb**

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**Whispers in Court as the House Speaks and Other Short Stories**

"D'Alençon says there's a little girl in the Bonnefoy Manor." Caroline, one of the Dauphine's ladies-in-waiting, stated as she popped a Cherry in her mouth.

"A little girl?" Another questioned, nipping at the cupcake in her hands, already knowing the entire story.

"Not really little; she is sixteen. But apparently a total angel." Caroline replied.

"As in does everything she is told, or in beauty?" An Auburn-haired Scotswoman asked.

"Both." Another cherry into Caroline's mouth.

"But I doubt she is as lovely as her majesty." Lynette, the one with the cupcake, spoke.

"Apparently as lovely as Isabel, Francis' fiancée."

"Oh please, no one is as beautiful as her." The Dauphine, Marie of Anjou, remarked.

"No, you are." Morgana, the Scotswoman, acknowledged.

"You're my friends; you're bound to say that. Isabel is way lovelier than I'll ever be and that is the truth."

"But the duc says that she is as lovely as Isabel." Caroline continued.

"So how did Francis even decide to take care of that girl?" Lynette inquired.

"She's a peasant."

"A peasant?" The Scotswoman laughed.

"Oh yes a peasant." Caroline nodded.

"Caroline, please. Why would Francis swoop as low to a peasant?" Morgana couldn't help but marvel.

"But she is!" Caroline chimed.

"A peasant shouldn't be that lovely. They don't have the necessary things." Lynette almost hissed for her disbelief was rather large.

"Plus we all know how much of a player Francis is. Even Isabel is aware of his flirtatious nature." Morgana butt in once more. "Do you not think that Francis will play her, like he did to us all, Marie?" Her Auburn head turned to the Queen-to-be.

"Well, I am not to say anything of that at all. He might have played you all, but you should have not gotten your hopes up so high as you did. He is an engaged man after all; and has been so since he was eight. Plus, you all said that Isabel is lovelier than anyone and why would he change her then?" The blonde glanced at the Morgana.

"Marie, we were all young and naïve at some point, leave us be." Lynette laughed.

"Might have been so, but you must think, A royal? If a royal wishes to wed, then it must be to a person that benefits their family and status, not someone that they would possibly fall in love with."

"Of course... But he should still not act as if there wasn't anything between us." Lynette huffed.

"Would you prefer Isabel to scold you then?" Marie raised an eyebrow. "Plus, were you not the one that lured him in? If I am not correct, he did not fancy you the slightest."

"Isabel would not tell me off and we all know that, she's way too nice. Plus, we still made love."

"Oh shut up, Lynette. Either way, Francis is her fiancé and she won't stand for any other courtier trying to take him away from her. No one would put up with losing an attractive man like him." Caroline explained.

"Ha, look who's talking, didn't you ask him if you could get married? And what did he say?" Morgana scoffed.

Caroline turned beet red and bit her lip. Despite her burning face, she looked down and mumbled: "He said that she was someone he couldn't leave... Plus that was more than three years ago."

Morgana burst out laughing and couldn't control her unladylike manner. "Who asks a kin to marry them?" She joked.

Caroline glared at Morgana with much hatred.

Now, Morgana was the sarcastic one of the group; always making jokes and acting rather sassy but she was the most fun out of the group. On the other hand, Lynette was the sweetest and nicest out of the group. She was trusting and so lovely, but of course she loved gossip much more than the rest of the group. Caroline was more of a kind yet rude lady. She was very blunt at certain times depending on whom one was. Finally, Marie was a very accepting and gentle lady, very uptight as well.

As the ladies of the court discussed the issues, matters were very similar within the Bonnefoy manor. Through every corner the house there were whispers to be heard as a certain young lady had left her room and headed for the dining room in which she would find breakfast set for her.

"Carla said she saw the nurse guiding her from the master's room to hers the other day." Although she was near, a peasant decided to speak.

"Is that so? What was she doing in the master's chambers?" Another servant inquired.

"Probably having some fun with the master like the whore she is."

"I'd rather you keep your trap shut." Francis' nurse hissed as she pushed past the ladies, making them loose their balance.

The servants scurried away, their faces red and horrified.

"Do you not agree this house is a nuisance?" The elder brunette female walked next to the younger blonde one.

"Pardon me?" Jeanne was taken aback by the sudden question.

"They're all talking about you, and it is honestly getting on my nerves."

"About me? Whatever do you mean?" A blonde eyebrow rose.

"The servants do not like you, is that not obvious already?" The nurse retorted.

Jeanne had not really noticed the people amongst her even talking, but now that she reflected back on the previous days, she had acknowledged that whenever she passed by a group of people, the house would begin to whisper words she could not make out.

"There's a certain girl who is spreading rumours about you."

"A girl?"

"Oh yes, a girl or young lady if you may, but she has something against you."

"What has she said of me?" The pair continued to walk down the long halls of the manor.

"Rude things." The nurse replied.

"What type of rude things?" Jeanne never believed in punishing someone without background knowledge of their mistake.

"That you're a -pardon my language - a whore." The elder lady's face was kept serious with no sign of amusement or disgust in the words chosen for the younger lady.

"A-a wh-" Jeanne stopped herself from swearing as her right hand flew to cover her lips.

"Yes a whore. Of course these are false accusations and you should do with her as you please but be mindful of everything. You still have no right to fire her if that is what your heart desires."

"Why do they wish to humiliate me like such? I am no lady of the night or a hamster at that, yet they make up the most ridiculous stories in order to destroy my self-esteem."

"Servants love to gossip and they adore destroying people's lives as well."

"Who is the girl of which spreads the rumours?" Jeanne obviously wished to know, for she wanted to understand as to why people were so cruel.

"I believe she is in the kitchen. The odd looking one with the big bosom and short stature. Her name is Anne, if I remember well and my old mind is not failing me."

The young blonde hurried to the kitchen to find the girl whom spoke of her so ill. Her long blue dress trailed behind her, sweeping the floor as she passed the many rooms. At this moment, the peasant did not possess shoes for she did not like heels the slightest, instead she was barefooted and quick to descend the stairs.

'Big bosom, short stature, odd looking...' Was all that ran through her mind as she skimmed the many servants.

Her search was over when, like the nurse said, she found the young lady in the kitchen preparing lunch.

"Pardon me, Anne?" Jeanne slowly made her way towards the servant.

"Milady," she bowed slightly, "is there anything you need?"

"You may call me Jeanne or Jeannette... What are you making?"

"We are preparing roasted pork with a side dish of potatoes and some salad. Is there anything you would like specially?"

"No, I'd like to help you." Jeanne smiled truthfully.

"Oh no milady, you should rest." Anne shook her head.

"Jeanne." She corrected.

"Jeanne, please do not trouble yourself."

"Salad it is then." The blonde female nodded and grabbed a knife in her hand as she held a carrot in the other.

Anne was confused and fearful for she knew the female already knew about what she had been saying around the manor.

"Why did you say I was a bad person?" Jeanne mumbled.

Anne immediately dropped the knife from her hands and closed her eyes tightly, preparing for the worst.

"I am not what you wish for me to be. I'm not rude nor evil towards you so please be kind to me as well. I apologize if I have offended you in anyway so please forgive me."

Anne was surprised by Jeanne's words but did not reply or speak until they had finished making lunch.

"Please do not spread hurtful lies..." Was all Jeanne needed to say before she left the kitchen completely.

The young lady made her way back to her chambers and sat on the bed thinking on how her life had passed her by and she could only recall little fragments of such. Of course, these truly did not make her feel any better for her memories were not so great.

"Excuse me, but you wished to take a bath?" The nurse's voice came from the other side of the door. "The bath is ready." She added.

"Thank you Charlotte!" Francis basically stripped and wrapped a towel around his lower half.

"You're welcome, milord." She hummed. Her heel was in mid pivot when the blond male had quickly exited the room and kissed her cheek.

"Happy birthday, my dear Charlotte." He cheered and kissed her other cheek.

"Francis, I prefer you kiss my cheek when you are fully dressed and not in inappropriate garments." She nearly hissed.

"Oh, right." Francis chuckled and let go of his nanny.

"Now hurry yourself and take that bath before the water gets cold, alright?" She smiled.

Francis nodded and kissed her cheek once more in order to gross her out before leaving for the bathroom of which was right across from him.

Charlotte followed him into the room and waited for him to settle in the warm bath. She then proceeded to grabbing a cloth and helping him clean himself.

"You know, Charlotte, you don't have to help me; I'm an adult now." Francis smiled at her.

"I am aware, Francis, but this is what I wish."

"Is it because you love me?"

"Of course, I love you as son, for I could not keep my own..."

"Charles would have really loved you..." Francis looked at his nurse and held her hand in his.

"Would he?" Her brown orbs slightly filled with tears at the thought of her still born.

"He would have loved you as I have loved you." The male kissed her hand and held it against his cheek tightly.

"Thank you, mon cher." She smiled. "Now let us clean that dirty butt of yours, alright?"

"Of course." Francis smiled and began to clean his legs as Charlotte cleaned his back.

"It's a boy." The woman announced.

"Charles." Charlotte smiled so brightly but dropped it when she did not hear the baby cry.

"I am sorry to inform you-"

"No! Please non! Non!" The brunette gripped the sheets upon her knees.

"Your son is not alive."

"Please! No!" She was twenty three at this age. She had difficulty having a child and this was not her first child. A girl had been first, but it was a miscarriage, then came another miscarriage, and finally Charles; her still born.

The lifeless baby was passed to her and she held it tightly in her arms, letting her tears drop upon him.

Her mouth would mumble pleads over and over again and she would not say another word.

"Charlotte, thank you." Francis snapped her out of her trance.

"For what, my dear?" She blinked her tears away and tilted her head.

"For being my mother." He replied with a wide grin across his face.

"I am your nurse not your mother."

"But you are my mother, for when my real mother was not at home you would treat me like one of your own."

"You are rather cheesy are you not?" Charlotte laughed brightly.

"Do you think Charles would have been like me?"

"No," she took a deep breath, "I think he would have been nicer and more educated than you."

"And why is that?" Francis smiled.

"I would have scolded him even more, because I cannot do that with you." Charlotte smiled brighter.

"How was Francis when he was younger?" Jeanne questioned while Charlotte and her walked about the gardens.

"How was he?" Charlotte raised a dark eyebrow.

"As in was he a good boy or-"

"I am aware of what you meant; I was just not sure if that was what you asked."

There was a short silence between the two females as the leaves whispered against one another telling each other secrets of when the trees were younger and more weak. The birds chirped and sang for the spring day was still so young and beautiful.

"He was such a hassle, that boy. Always getting into trouble and making the house a mess. They used to live in court when younger and Isabel loved to play with Jean and Francis. The three of them were the trouble makers of the castle; they used to call them the French drought and the little Spanish earthquake or simply the troublesome Trio.

"The kids would eat everything, they would bring a mini drought and they would even crawl about in the mud and run around the castle making all the maids so angry. On top of that, they would play in the labyrinth in the gardens and anyone who tried to look for them would get lost for a day or two. Finally the secret tunnels in the castle were their favourite place to play all day and sometimes night." She smiled as she spoke of the elder days.

* * *

"Hey! Francis! Jean! Wait for me." The little Spaniard announced as she hurried behind them.

"Hurry! We won't catch the unicorn if you don't keep up!" Francis called back.

"Is that really what you told her? A unicorn?" Jean huffed as they climbed up the forest's hill.

"She wouldn't come otherwise..." Francis reasoned.

"A unicorn? Really?"

"Hey! She said she liked unicorns!"

"I knew that it was a lie! We all know unicorns don't exist, so you should have just said that we were running away!" Isabel's voice came from right next to the boys, causing them to become unbalanced and surprised.

"For the last time, Isa, we are not running away!" Jean rolled his eyes.

"We are merely going on an adventure!" Francis added.

"Adventure?"

"Oh yes! Adventure!" The blond smiled as he clapped his hands while the black haired male shook his head.

"Hurry up or we'll miss it!" Jean hissed.

Isabel hurried up and reached the top of the hill before the boys did, and she did so with such skill that she did not trip over the dead branches or slip due to the mud.

"I guess you sissies should hurry up!" She hollered from the top of the hill.

"Isa!" Francis laughed as he and his cousin hurried up and reached the top of the hill.

The younger girl began to run and as she saw the river, she moved towards the trees that had fallen in order to create a makeshift bridge.

"Don't run so fast!" Jean warned for he knew that the floor was still slippery from the previous day's storm.

"You are just jealous you can't keep up!" Francis laughed as he followed the infanta.

"I am not! Be careful!" He continued after the younger ones.

He was only two years older than Francis, of which was at the time nine, and three older than Isabel, but he was still the wiser one.

A high pitched shriek filled the forest's atmosphere causing the birds to fly away and any animal to scatter far from the site of the children. Jean gasped and glanced at the mortified Francis.

"Jean!" Isabel screamed as she held on to a tree's root so tightly.

Jean hurried towards the girl with Francis close behind.

"Hold on, Isabel." He panted.

"Don't let go!" Francis called for the water had risen due to the rain and she was nearly fully submerged in it.

"I'm trying!" Isabel cried as she gripped the roots tighter.

Jean looked around for a way to help her. The river was still vicious and it would take days for it calm down, plus the storm from the previous day caused many trees to fall and with mud all over the floor they weren't going to have a good support once they found something to pull her up with.

"Hurry!" She cried even louder for her wet and muddy hands were slipping.

"Here!" Jean yelled as he found the solution. There were roots he had cut with his dagger and dropped them so she could grab onto them. "Tighten them around you!"

"I can't!" She retorted.

"Then grab onto them and tighten them around your hands!" Francis added.

She did just that but ever so carefully so that she would not fall into the raging river.

"Ready?" Jean called.

"Ready!" She screamed.

The boys held onto the roots and pulled her up although Francis slipped once but jean was able to hold onto them tightly.

Isabel was a panting mess when she finally reached solid ground. Her dress was torn and soaked not only in water and mud but some blood as well.

"You're bleeding!" Francis gasped and hurried to her quickly. He lifted her dress only to witness a gash on her right leg. "How did that happen?" He questioned.

"A rock in the river..." She mumbled.

"You should have listened to me!" Jean hissed. "Now what will Auntie say?" He referred to Charlotte.

"Let her scold me." Isabel huffed.

Francis was quick to tend to her wound. He used his tunic to wrap around her leg like a bandage and afterwards kissed the top of her forehead. "If we're to wed one day, you must keep alive." He huffed.

"Come on, lovebirds, we've got to hurry before she needs to get her leg amputated." Jean smirked.

"Amputated?" Isabel was mortified.

"Oh shut up, Jean! Don't scare her!" Francis hissed and helped the little girl to her feet. He carried her on his back, not only because of her injury but of her missing both her shoes as well.

The trio had returned to the castle covered in mud from head to toe and some blood depending on whom carried who.

"Where have you all been?" Charlotte was enraged to see the three of them so dirty.

"Help Isabel... She's hurt, please?" Francis pleaded.

"Am I not here for that sole purpose to help you all?" Charlotte smiled and nodded. "Get her on the bench." She pointed towards a bench in the kitchen.

The boys hurried to the bench and let her down. They then sat next to her and watched as Charlotte disinfected and wrapped her wounds properly.

"Just like new." Charlotte smiled and kissed the top of Isabel's head. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you Auntie Charlotte." They all announced in unison.

"Now you must all get changed and bathed. You all smell disgusting." She scrunched her nose.

"Yes, Auntie Charlotte." The trio smiled and scurried off through the secret passages of the castle.

"But... She needs to prepare our baths!" Francis remembered.

"Oh well! More time to play!" Isabel laughed although she was still limping.

"A bath is what we shall take." Jean announced. "Let's call the other maids, we can play games later."

"Party pooper." Francis huffed.

"But after our bath... We should bloat to Charles about our adventure." Jean smirked.

* * *

**The Story of Francis and Morgana**

"Bonjour milady." The blond flirt had decided to appear before the Scotswoman. When younger, the Scotswoman was much reserved and kept to herself, as always, but she did not ever talk to the others that were her age for she never liked France.

"Bonjour, my lord." She pulled a small smile. She had heard of his flirtatious manner and had been warned about such but she still fancied the young man.

"Lady Morgana, correct?" The handsome young man raised a blond eyebrow.

"Yes, and might you be Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Yes. Indeed I am, my fair maiden." He smiled.

"I've heard my fair share about you, my dear lord."

"Is that so? Well I've heard my fair share about you." Francis cracked a smug smirk.

"And what about me?" She swallowed. In all honesty she had nothing to fear, but the only problem was that anything could be used against her.

"That you are really beautiful, and I see they speak the truth."

Morgana sighed in some relief and returned the small smile. She then continued walking and passed him by.

"Wait, Lady Morgana, I was hoping for us to get to know each other better." Francis caught up to her.

"Well, I know plenty about you already and I bet you know plenty about me." She chuckled catching his flirting.

"But I do not know much of you, and what you may know about me may be false information." He was persistent, and frankly Morgana had nothing else to do and thus she agreed to this little acquaintance.

It had been a while since they had talked but all the more it was better to get acquainted with one another and to let rumours be ruled out.

"They tell me you are of the same kin as the dauphin, is that true?" Morgana asked first as they sat on a bench in the castle's botanical gardens.

"Yes, I'm a cousin of the dauphin, but please treat me like an equal." Francis replied.

"So do you have a proper tittle like duke of...?" She understood his request and nodded.

"Prince of the blood Duc d'Alsace et Lorraine." He smiled slightly as the lady next to him was playing with her dress.

"Oh, that is rather interesting, mon duc." She chuckled half-heartedly.

"Either way, what about you, my dear, a duchess or noble of any sort?"

"Not really, my father is a duke but enough about my father we don't need to focus on him, how about my life in the French court? It is only appropriate since I have lived here my entire life."

"Alright then, how old are you?"

"Sixteen and you, my lord?"

"Seventeen." He laughed and sat back on his seat. "Would you like to join me in a picnic tomorrow at noon?"

The Scotswoman thought about the pros and cons of being with Francis, but seeing as gossip was gossip she shrugged it off and decided to spend the day with the notorious flirt.

"That sounds rather promising, my lord." Morgana nodded yet she did not truthfully smile.

"Then it's settled; we meet each other at noon in the stables, I will prepare everything and all you need to do is show up, alright my love?" He shot her another smile.

"Alright." She noted as she gave another nod in approval.

The following day, at noon, Morgana made her way to the stables; wearing a casual sundress and a simple blue cloak to keep her warm for when the sun hid behind the clouds. She entered the stables, careful not to step on horse droppings.

"There you are!" Francis smiled and offered her a hand as he led her to a horse. "We'll have our picnic by the river, is that alright with you?"

"I couldn't be so satisfied." She stated, her lips remaining a straight line but her voice held some sweetness.

"Alright then... Let us carry on." He helped her atop her horse and mounted his own, and with that, they hurried off to the river.

Upon reaching the little river, Francis dismounted his stallion and hurried to help the beauty out of hers. After doing so, he had set up the picnic and led her to sit.

"The day is lovely." She smiled at him.

"Yes, indeed it is." Francis smiled back at her.

"Say, I wonder why you chose today..." She mumbled.

"No real reason." The young man shrugged.

"Are you positive?" She sighed. "Does it have to do with the dauphin on a hunting trip?" Her dark eyebrow rose.

"The dauphin? Why would it involve him?" Francis laughed.

"Alright, then why else today?"

"Because I wish to get to know you. You seem like you are very much worth my time."

"Worth your time? Does this mean I'm some sort of amusement, my good sir?" She smiled brighter, meaning to tease him.

"Frankly, you are the only person that catches my eye in court. Everyone else is... How do you say, boring?"

"Is it because I'm Scottish?" She laughed a good amount.

"Possibly... Wine?" He offered as they had begun to eat their food that Francis had prepared himself.

"Yes please," she offered her goblet, "thank you."

"Now, lady Morgana, do you find me interesting?" Francis inquired.

"Very much, yes."

"How so?"

"You're quite the flirt, but you always amaze me in what you say." She sipped at her rich sweet wine.

"Thank you?" He laughed.

"Now you tell me, what is it that, truly, attracts you to me?"

"Not only are you beautiful, but also that you are nothing like the French courtiers. All the women here are fools." He looked up at the sky; the leaves above him filtered the sunlight so beautifully that it made him smile.

"Fools? And why is that?" Another sip.

"All they do is gossip, and it is honestly annoying." He sighed heavily.

"And you believe that I do not gossip?" She asked after she had finished her wine.

"To me, it seems that you care little for such futile things." He sighed loudly.

"Futile? Part of a French girl's personality is to gossip, but you are correct, I could only care less for gossip, for I am not French." Morgana played with her sundress.

"Yes, exactly, and maybe that is why I fancy you."

"Possibly." She licked her lips in order to savour the remaining wine that lingered there.

"It is." The Frenchman smirked as he leaned closer to her.

"Is it?" Her smile grew as she leaned towards him as well.

"Yes, it is." He now whispered.

"Then that is not very flirtatious of you." She pulled away for they were about to kiss.

Francis could have grunted but he refrained for he knew it was improper of a man from the same kin as the future king of France. He smiled despite almost winning her but he knew she was going to be a hard meal from the very beginning. Not only was this lady sassy but she was not the slightest bit French and thus would not fall in love so easily as all his others had.

"Forgive me..." Francis mumbled.

"Oh no worries, I understand that you fancy me, I'm just upset to say I do not feel the same about you..." She smirked.

"And why is that, milady?" Francis inquired, looking her in the eyes.

"There are many things that I do not like about you." She was very blunt.

"Like what?" The man was eager to hear her complaints.

"You reek of wine, and not only are you seventeen, but you are way too... I don't know how to put it..."

"Wine? I reek of wine? Are we not drinking wine?" He was way too offended for his own good.

"Really? I did not notice that." She scoffed. "I mean all the time, whenever I'm near you, all I smell is wine. And you act as if you were a man whore."

"A what?" His eyes grew wide.

"A man whore." She laughed.

"Because I am a flirt?" He questioned.

"Could be," her smile remained, "but I appreciate your boldness."

"Thank you?"

"You are very welcome."

They continued to laugh and talk for a couple of more hours until they had decided that it was late enough and they should have been heading back to the castle.

"I had much fun, merci beaucoup, Francis; this is the most fun I have had since I was a child." Morgana smiled his way.

"No, thank you milady for accompanying me, I am glad that you enjoyed yourself, ma Cherie." Francis smiled in return.

"Thank you." She repeated and once they had arrived at the castle she had given him a peck on cheek. "Let us just be friends, I really enjoy your company, but I think that the Spanish infanta deserves a good man, and you can be that good man if you simply try, so please be her good man."

Francis looked at her and smiled. "No girl has ever said that... So thank you." He surprised that she had given him advice with his future wife.

Francis quickly stole a small kiss from her lips and gave her an even brighter smile. "Friends could work." He chuckled as Morgana blushed.

* * *

**The Young Trio**

"When are we going on our next adventure?" Isabel chirped as the boys played about with their toy swords.

"It was because" -a grunt -"of you that we are locked" -another grunt as he swung his sword at Francis -"in this rat hole." Jean huffed loudly.

Francis continued to fight the elder male with his wooden sword, trying his best to strike him.

"But did you forget about the secret passage ways?" She smiled at him.

"Yes, but our passage has been locked, do you not remember?" He smirked and shook his head at her stupidity and blocked Francis' attack.

"Oh yes, but," it was her turn to smirk, "a little friend of mine got the key." She raised her eyebrows at him as she walked towards Francis and pulled out some keys from his pocket before leaning on the French male.

Jean couldn't help but smile; he dropped his toy sword and began to laugh as he gave them both a pat on the shoulder. "I forgot how much I love you."

"So adventure it is." Francis laughed as he took the keys from Isabel and hurried towards the fake wall panel and moved the painting ever so slightly to insert the key and open the passage ways.

Jean and Isabel hurried after the blond male as he had ran into the tunnel, another adventure it would truly be, because it was said that the passage ways were haunted by the ghosts of the past.

* * *

**The Not So Happy Tale of Lynette and Francis**

"We sure find ourselves in a quite awkward situation." Francis laughed from above her.

"We sure do." The blonde lady giggled nervously from below him.

It was a strange process of how it had even happened in the beginning. They were normally talking about the weather or something of the sort when the lady had tripped and fell on him, startling him and making them both fall to the floor.

"Sorry, but are you alright?" He smiled brightly and rolled off of her.

Lynette loved the warm grass but it was better to stand and not make a fool of herself before the handsome male. "Yes, I am, thank you very much." Her smile brightened as she was helped to her feet by him.

"I apologize for that." Francis bowed before her.

"Oh, my lord, do not fret." She landed a hand on his shoulder, signalling for him to stand.

Francis got on his feet and smiled at her. "Well... I should be off to the races, the Dauphin is expecting me, and we all know how he gets when mad."

"The races?" A blond eyebrow rose. "I how I wished to go, but my friends were being too stubborn and did not wish to accompany me the slightest." She huffed loudly.

"And why is that?" Francis tilted his head.

"They say that the races are just for male and a lady should not dare be seen in one."

"I highly doubt that, there are many ladies there, one being the lady Morgana for sure." He pursed his lips together after speaking.

The sun was high up in the sky and he was going to be late if he did not hurry, in addition he was one of the contestants after all.

"The lady Morgana? Are you positive?" Lynette was somewhat horrified.

"Here, let me show you." He hurried down the hill, pulling her down as well. They flew down the steps to the bottom of the hill and out to the arena at the bottom of the Chinon castle.

"Why are we running?" She panted, although her worries were in her shoes for one had slipped off and she was limping.

"I have to be there in less than a minute!" Francis stated right as they arrived at the gates of the arena. "I wish I could take you all the way there, but it seems that I cannot for I have to compete." He smirked.

Lynette smiled brightly and removed the ribbon from her hair. "I want you to wear my colours." She offered the blue ribbon up to him.

"That is truly very kind of you, milady. I shall wear it." He smirked as she tied it around his right arm in a perfect bow.

Francis hurried to the preparation room and dressed himself. Lynette seemed like a meal for now.

"I welcome you all to the 30th horse race that this town has held. Please, a hand for our contestants!" The Dauphin smiled at the crowed, his eye catching Francis' mischievous smirk, allowing him to witness that the young male had yet another girl in mind. "May the most skilled rider win!" He proclaimed as the crowd roared.

Francis waved at the crowd and laughed as they went crazy. He was first up with his black stallion and against some man of the southern border. Their horses neighed and huffed and the race was rather close but Francis won. You might think that it all depends on the horse in order to win the race, but that is a lie at heart. The trainer must train, feed, and care for his horse, this results in the horse building trust with its rider and being able to run its full capacity, wishing to please its master for all he's done. The horse depends in the rider to guide it and to lead it to victory and therefore both the horse and the rider have as much right to win.

Francis really loved to race and he was always happy to ride his horse. From when he was a child, he loved adventure and being on a horse made him feel like some sort of conqueror, as if he had just discovered a foreign land and he would be able to get lost in it for years and years.

"You were amazing." Lynette smiled up at him. She was truly taken away by his skill and she wanted to thank him for wearing her ribbon.

"Why thank you, my lady." He smiled for he was already in the quarter finals and would be competing again the following day.

"Thank you," she kissed his cheek, "for wearing my colours."

Francis pecked her cheek in return and held onto her hand. "Thank you for allowing me to wear them."

Lynette giggled and hardened her grip on his hand slightly, making sure she wouldn't leave him. "I've been watching you, and well... I really fancy you, Francis."

How the tables have turned, the girl was the one wanting to court him in the first place. Was it possible that in the morning, as he hurried to the races, when she tripped it was no accident, was it?

"Is that true, now?" The Frenchman smiled.

"Oh yes, that is quite true." Her smile grew as she played with a lock of his long blond hair.

"And why is that?"

"I actually do not know, I just really admire your beauty and well your smile, it makes me want to smile as well." She mumbled.

"You are very confident, are you not?" Francis placed his hands on her waist lightly.

"Well, I had been waiting for the right to time to tell you... and when is it better than now?" She batted her eyes up at him.

"That is right; there is no time like the present after all, my dear."

"You could not be more correct." She lightly bit her lower lip with rather suggestive eyes staring him down.

"Francis!" A voice yelled and Francis could have sighed in relief out loud but he smiled sorrowfully at her and kissed her cheek.

"I must be off; the duke calls." He winked as he hurried off to his cousin.

Lynette grunted and waved him off. "Alright, see you around, sire." She called after him.

"Thank the Lord you came along." Francis gave his cousin a pat on the back.

"I saw you struggling there, and I thought you really were in need of my help. Plus, I did promise our little Spaniard that I would keep you true to her, of which I could not since I had been gone for ages." Jean spoke jokingly but his statement held truth.

"How is she doing anyways?" Francis wished to change the subject of him sleeping with anything that moved, except for Morgana, of which he was completely and utterly fine with.

"Do you not send her letters?" Jean questioned as they began to walk toward the castle.

"You know exactly what happened before she left..." Francis followed behind him.

"And what? Are you not going to do anything about it? You are still to marry her anyway."

"Yes, but I cannot see the right time to explain things to her."

"Really? Because all I see is that you keep doing things to push her away rather than bringing her closer to you." Jean huffed.

"It is not that simple, Jean."

"It is. You should at least start to strengthen your relationship with her because either you will love her for the rest of your life or you will marry your worst enemy and, God forbid, you will end up killing one another."

"I do not hate her the slightest, and you know that, I just cannot bring myself to tell her..."

"Just start to converse with her, because we all know she'll be here soon enough."

"When?" The blond's eyes grew wide.

"I am not quite sure, but I overheard Charles talking about her, so fix it." Jean continued to walk as Francis stopped in his tracks and sighed loudly.

Francis stood still and looked down at the town that remained at the bottom of the hill. He really did care for the infanta quite a lot, but due to his last run-in with her, he knew their relationship was on ice at the moment, and if he did anything wrong he knew that he would fall to hell without her.

"Francis!" Another voice called as he made his way into the castle, trying to avoid others.

Francis looked back to see Lynette and sighed loudly, he wasn't feeling up to 'playing' at the moment, and he knew Lynette was.

"Hello, My lady." He bowed his head slightly.

"Come with me, I have to show you something." She smirked and dragged him down the hall and into the room, ignoring the protests and excuses of the male.

"Why did you bring me here?" He questioned.

"I saw that you were feeling a bit down, so I want to cheer you up." She stated as she removed her dress, standing before him in her bloomers and corset.

"I am not certain, what type of image I gave off, and I apologize for that, because I am certainly not looking for this." Francis gulped.

"We both know you do." She walked towards him slowly.

"No I do not, now I would appreciate it if you will excuse me." He stated bluntly and turned to leave.

Sadly, to no avail did he leave the room, the blonde woman grabbed his wrist and held him back. "Just for one night, it is not as if anyone would find out, anyways." She whispered as she wrapped her arm around his torso to begin removing his shirt button by button.

The following day, Francis awoke in a foreign room, a light body placed slightly on top of him and slightly above him. He opened his eyes and sat up quickly, startling the other person that was on the bed with him.

"Francis?" She yawned loudly.

"Oh my dear Lord..." Francis gasped as he tumbled out of the bed. "This was not supposed to happen."

"Francis... Please, don't say that; we had a good time."

"No, no, no, it did not happen. I am sorry but that was truly a mistake." He stated as he collected his clothes from the floor.

"Francis..."

"The races..." He made an excuse to leave as he dressed himself.

"Will you wear my colours?" She remained on the bed, covering herself with the sheets.

"No, I will not." He replied and found his keys, of which he opened a panel in her room and locked the door behind him. It came in handy how he knew the passage ways very well since he was a child, and he knew exactly how to get to his room from any chamber in the palace. There was no way he would let anyone find out about this at all. And he would never open that panel for a very long time of which hopefully was never.

Arriving in his chambers he hurried to his bed and sat down. If he was going to prepare for the races, he was to do so now. And thus he prepared.

"Welcome, my people, I have decided," the Dauphin began as the eight riders filed into the arena, "that I do not really fancy races much, They seem to be a little boring, really... and therefore a sword fighting tournament seemed more fitting."

Francis' sapphire eyes grew side, his smile dropped as the crowd roared once more.

"Now, we all know about our glorious Champion; the Duke Jean d'Alençon, and well his three time opponent; Duke Francis Bonnefoy, but my dear cousin will not be participating in this tournament for it is only for our riders. So, my dear cousin Francis will be able to win this time around, will you not?" Charles gave him a sly smile.

Francis kept his face emotionless because he knew how cruel his cousin could be when Francis did something to disappoint him.

"The rules are simple; any weapons may be used, and it will not be to the death. Let the best Warrior win!" The Dauphin smiled as the riders were let out of the arena in order to armour them. "And may the Lord, or God, bless you all!"

Francis was up first and his opponent was definitely not an easy one for not only was he a rider, but a knight as well. The man chose a mace as his weapon and of course a shield to protect himself from Francis' attacks. Yet, the blond male wielded a sword in his right hand and a shield as well on the other.

Rotating his right wrist to demonstrate his skill and warm up his muscles, Francis stared the other man down. A bell was rung and the males began circling one another.

Noting an opening on the man's left side, Francis attacked. Swinging his sword roughly, he was blocked and a mace came towards him.

'_Step. Step. Block. Step. Swing to the right. The left. Block from above. Step_.' Francis recited in his mind as he performed the actions.

He was quick to react as the opponent swung the mace his way, but all too soon, the young male disarmed him and lightly pressed his sword against the man's neck; earning roars from the crowd.

"Good job." The man smiled and the shook hands as Francis pulled his sword from the man's throat.

"Thank you." Francis smiled at the man. "You did well yourself."

The match was obviously won by Francis and they both filed out of the arena.

Francis blocked the man's attack, clashing their swords against one another. A step backwards was enough space to throw another blow. An opening to the man's right was perfect for hitting him with the hilt of his sword, of which he did and finally Francis won against his other opponent, making the man tumble to the floor.

The large male was all muscle, letting the younger male use simple skills, and ultimately leading to his victory.

The finals were to be held the following day and it was now left to Francis and a female of which he did not know the identity of. Yet she seemed like a worthy opponent.

"Who's colours are you wearing tomorrow, cousin?" Jean caught up to the blond as he went to sharpen his sword for the next fight.

"I have a girl in mind..." Francis sighed, pressing down on the pedal of the grindstone.

"And is she the Lynette girl?" The older of the two rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly.

"No, it is someone I actually care for."

"The lady Morgana is actually quite a good choice." He acknowledged.

"It is not the lady Morgana either."

"Then who's colours are you to wear if it is not the Lady Morgana or Lynette?" Jean was honestly getting a little mad for the blond male seemed to have a new girl on his mind.

"You will see soon enough either way." Francis shrugged.

"She better be worth every second of your life."

"I can bet you my pathetic life that she is worth every single second."

"I hope so." He grunted and left the forge.

Francis remained in the forge thinking about the only person he should have been thinking of the entire duration of his life, but of course things never went as planned and from the darkness of the forge, he spotted movement. "Who goes there?" He called out.

"Lady Morgana." She stepped towards the blond.

"Oh, Hello Morgana." He smiled her way.

"You were amazing out there, but the one you are fighting tomorrow seems like a better fighter, no offence." Morgana sat down next to the male.

"And why is that?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Her fighting skills are phenomenal. It seems to me like she had been taught since she was young."

"Maybe her father wanted a son instead." He shrugged.

"It seems so."

"Really?" Francis was sort of offended because what father would want a son instead of a daughter? Only a king really, but surely the female was not royal, or she would have been announced at court and Francis would have become familiar with her.

"Yeah, she seems rather determined to win, in all honesty. It could possibly be to prove a point or to feel like she is worth of becoming an heir in her family, plus she seems of rich descent, her armour would explain it."

"A blue blood?"

"Could be... Or she could also be the daughter of a merchant. Blue blood seems a bit unlikely because I have not encountered a lady with such skill before; I bet you she could beat me in less than two seconds."

"Then maybe she must be a daughter of a merchant..."

"By the way, speaking of ladies, Lynette told me what occurred yesterday evening." Morgana stated. "I do not believe her; we all know how big her mouth is."

"Well... I'm afraid you have to believe her, for what she said is the truth..." Francis admitted as he hung his head in shame.

"Well, you better fix things with her because we know she will not keep it secret for long." Morgana did not dare question any further for she knew it was already not her knowledge to acquire.

"I am just very upset... I did not want to-"

"You do not have to explain because I understand that you do not fancy her the slightest." She saved him the trouble.

"Thank you." Francis brought his gorgeous smile back to his features.

"Either way, are you wearing anyone's colours?"

"Yes, but that is a secret."

"Well, good luck against the woman, you will need it." Morgana stood from the working bench. "Oh, before I forget; get yourself some sleep."

Francis smiled up at her and nodded. "Yes mother, I shall do that." He laughed.

"Alright, good night, and please do go to sleep soon, or you will end up losing the fight, do you understand?"

"Yes mother." He smirked and watched as she left.

Well if he was planning to wear those colours he needed to find that handkerchief soon, and it would be best if he went to do so as soon as possible.

Reaching his room, Francis looked around the room thinking of where he had last left it. That piece of cloth was his lucky charm and he would always win first place when wearing it, of course that was only when Jean was not competing in the fights, and the Dauphin did not disqualify him because he was upset with Francis' behaviour.

Alright, he was going to find that handkerchief no matter where it lay, and he was going to it before noon of the morrow.

Throwing shirts and pants all over the room with no luck, Francis wanted to destroy his room. He searched each cabinet and then his bed. Where had he last placed it? It was not like he threw it away, right?

Then it came to him, he had it hidden in one of the panels of the room, now he just needed to remember which one...

By morning, his room looked as if a tornado had hit it, but nonetheless he was able to find the red and yellow handkerchief that he had in the panel behind his closet, of course after finding rats, money, and a couple of things that he had been missing for years; including his stuffed roster.

He held the thin soft cloth in his hands and smiled gratefully, but sadly he had not acquired any sleep at all and he only had four hours before the tournament would begin. But, as always, he thought sleep was more important and then landed on his bed and feel soundly asleep.

"Oh my Lord, what on earth happened here?!" A voice twitched him awake.

Francis grunted in response and covered his face with the pillow.

"What did you do? Have you finally gone insane?" The voice continued to yell as Francis tried to block the woman's voice from his mind. "Now get up! The match starts in less than ten minutes! Everyone is expecting you!"

Now this awoke Francis in seconds. "Right the match, the match, thank you Charlotte." Francis yawned and shook his head, trying to keep awake.

"What happened here?" The woman questioned as she helped him to get in his armour.

"I was looking for this." Francis smiled as he held up the handkerchief.

Charlotte smiled brightly at him and finished dressing him, handing him his sword she kissed his cheek. "Good luck and I hope that helps you too, alright? Oh and please be careful, do not kill or exert yourself, my dear."

"I promise." Francis replied and kissed her cheek in return. "Well, I'll be off to the tournament now." He announced before racing out of his chambers and the castle to hurry to the arena.

"Oh, we were wondering how long you would keep us waiting." The Dauphin joked and the crowd responded by laughing as Francis entered the Arena.

"Forgive me, sire." Francis knelt.

"Oh, I forgive you, but it is time to fight, is that not correct? Let the best warrior win." Charles smiled at the crowd and sat down at his seat, watching as the warriors took their position; Francis in a ready stance as he put on his helmet and held his sword tightly in his hand. All the while, the woman was already prepared and stood straight and graceful; holding true to her gender.

Francis could only see the female's eyes past her helmet, and for that he felt rather disappointed for he knew many girls with green eyes, starting with Isabel and Ending with a daughter of the Hungarian Royal family; Elizaveta. Plus, Morgana was correct, her armour seemed expensive.

Smiling nonetheless, Francis lifted his sword and waited for the bell, softly tugging on the handkerchief tied to his upper arm.

_Ding, dong._

And the fight began.

They circled around one another as Francis tried to scan her for any weaknesses or disadvantages she had, of which he could not find, and in addition she held great posture for her being no knight.

Sadly, not getting a profile from her, the male lunged his sword forwards, nearly catching her, but missing all together, opening a space for her, of which she obviously took. Her short sword was swung in order to hit his rib cage, but moving ever so slightly, the young male was able to avoid the blow.

He could tell when the lady had tightened her grip around the sword because she easily maneuvered it in order to pull it up and smack it down; luckily Francis brought his shield up to block the blow that was to land on his head. It seemed as if every second that passed by, the female became more and more enraged as Francis dodged her blows.

Seeing as he was doing more defending than attacking, the male caught her sword with his in the space between them, both earning the savouring clinging sound of the swords and a roar from the ever so frivolous crowd.

The female twisted her wrist in order to change the direction of her swing, being able to break from the lock their swords were held in and allowing her to thrust her sword forward to be able to knock him over. Acquiring the simple blow on him, the male tumbled back, thankful she did not do so hard enough to break through his breast plate.

Francis bit his bottom lip and began to circle around her once more, trying to catch his breath, yet the female did not allow such action, instead she lunged toward him and, Francis failing to block her attack, swiftly slashed his right arm slightly, enough to open a gash and cut through both his armour and the handkerchief, but nothing so serious.

The male grunted loudly and he almost dropped his sword, but he refrained from submitting to the woman just yet. Tightening the grip on the handel, he dropped his shield and removed his helmet to discard it somewhere around them. He smirked at the lady as beads of sweat glistened down his forehead.

The armoured Lady sighed and rolled her wrist as he returned to fighting position. Her stare remained locked on Francis, she did not dare glance at the crowd for she knew not to underestimate her opponents, yet she dropped her shield as well, to show she was not afraid of him.

The fight commenced once more as Francis attacked her, their swords clinging against one another again and again and again. As she believed she had found an opening but Francis was quick to block then, as he attacked her, he was able to knock the sword from between her fingers and lunge it relatively far from her.

The lady glanced at the sword then back at Francis and shot him a sly smile, dodging his next blow and ducking as he threw his other one. Luckily, by the time Francis was about to use his next attack, the woman had the short sword in her hands, allowing for her to block his attack and hit the back of his knee with the hilt of her sword, making the male collapse to the dirt. While he fell, the shorter of the two was able to disarm him, in which she decided to take his sword in her hands.

"Your knees were always your weakness." The green-eyed lady scoffed.

"Isabel?"

"You finally noticed?" She questioned, bringing both swords up in the air and striking them into the ground on either side of Francis' head, causing him to flinch.

The crowd roared as the infanta removed her helmet, allowing for her wavy dark chestnut hair to cascade down around her. Dropping her helmet to the floor, she raised her hand and bowed before the crowd as the Dauphin stood and Francis let his head drop backward to close his eyes for a short while.

"A hand for our new champion!" Charles proclaimed and smiled brightly.

"Are you not going to stand?" Isabel looked down at Francis.

"Sleep..." He murmured.

"Hurry up." She offered him her hand and smiled down at him. "Plus, do you not need to treat that wound?"

"Alright, if you wish." He yawned and gave her a smile as well.

"Thank you..." Her voice seemed distant due to the talk of the people.

"For?" Francis took her hand and allowed for her to help him to his feet.

"Wearing my colours." She had caught sight of the handkerchief tied around his arm as she had struck him. The piece of soft silk cloth was the original colours of her flag, the most beautiful she had ever thought of, some red and yellow covered the back and her crest remained in the middle, the lace fitting around the borders perfectly.

"Only for a beauty like you." Francis smiled at her and opened his arms to embrace her.

Isabel shot him another smile and hugged him. "Thank you." She was so overjoyed that he had worn her colours for this fight, that seemed to prove of importance to him.

"I've missed you." He mumbled in her ear.

Isabel did not complain for she enjoyed being in his arms at the moment, and therefore she did not make a retort to ruin their reuniting, or else it would have gotten rather messy in the arena.

* * *

"So they were adventurers?" Jeanne smiled.

"Oh yes! They were like three little King Arthurs; that old folk tale I bet you know it. They tell it about the villages a lot."

"The one about the boy that pulled the holy sword from the stone?"

"Yes that one!" Charlotte smiled. "They were great kids, really. Yet they did cause a handful of trouble."

"I bet." The peasant lady smiled brighter at the thought of the French cousins so young.

"They might have been tough to take care of, but they were lovely."

The ladies continued to walk throughout the gardens as they talked of when the day was young and their life was new.

"Ladies..." Francis smiled as he made his way towards the women. "I see that you've gotten along swimmingly."

"More or less." The nurse smiled.

"Well, I have got news for you, mes cheries." He finally got to the women.

"And what may they be?" Charlotte asked.

"That my beloved is coming home in two days' time." Francis gave a smirk.

"Mon Dieu! The manor is a mess and the infanta is coming?"


	3. The Arrivial of Yet Another Royal

**The Arrival of yet Anothe****r**** Royal**

Early one Sunday morning, as Francis prepared for the day, Jeanne had awoken in order to help around the house, for now she was feeling much better than she had in a long time. She dressed herself in a simple white dress and made her way to the kitchen. By noon the servants were running all about the Manor, trying to make it as presentable as possible for when the Infanta arrived.

Jeanne prepared the appetizers as the other maids worked diligently, of course that was until Charlotte had entered the Kitchen howling her name. "Dear goodness! Jeanne, I have been looking all over the mansion for you, and why are you even here in the first place?" She hissed, grabbing the blonde by her wrist and dragging her out with her.

"I thought that I needed to help..." The peasant mumbled under her breath as the lady took her to Francis' room.

"You also need to look presentable to the Infanta, or what is she going to think? That Francis brought a stray dog to the house?" Charlotte huffed.

"I think I look decent..."

"Decent? Look what you did to yourself?" The elder of the two pointed out that her previously white dress was now a mix of red and other colours. "Have you no decency to walk around the Manor wearing that mess of a dress?"

"It was not like this before..."

"You were not to be in the Kitchen, why would you want to help?"

"I feel indebted to his Grace..."

"Stop speaking like that, raise your tone."

The arrived at the Master's room and they still bickered even after the male had come in sight.

"I would like for you to wear this, Jeanne." Francis smiled at her, handing her a blue dress. "I want you to look as beautiful as ever because I wish for Isabel to respect you, even though she would either way..." The blond male was a little uncertain of the Infanta's reactions.

"Oh, but I could never wear this..." She looked down at the dress, it was way too gorgeous for her, she would simply not wear it.

"Charlotte, please get her in this dress." Francis would not take her remark and wished for her to be dressed as soon as she possibly could, and after leaving the dress on the bed, he exited the room quickly.

The Lady took the dress in her hands and looked at Jeanne. "Now, you will wear this, or you _will _wear this." She extended the dress in front of her as she dead-panned.

Jeanne nodded began to remove her corset in order to wear the dress Francis wished to see her dressed in. After putting on the silky laced dress, Charlotte had begun to prepare her hair. The long blond locks were made into a braided crown, and she put jewels to decorate the younger girl's head. The woman then lightly touched upon her features with light make up and finished her off with white slippers.

The foot steps that filled the house seem to rush even more and then a servant's voice seemed to clarify the situation. "The infanta has arrived!"

Both Jeanne and Charlotte looked at one another and hurried out of Francis' chambers to see her.

Standing at the top of the concrete staircase in front of the Manor, Jeanne felt super nervous as she witnessed the carriage come to a complete halt. What if the Spaniard did not like her? How was Isabel even like? Was she rude nowadays? Or was she sweet? But what if she told Jeanne that she could not remain in the household? Where would Jeanne go then?

A thin figure emerged from the carriage, a simple red dress flowing around the voluptuous figure. The woman had long chestnut brown locks that were curled, but still allowed to fall around her face. A top her head, a lovely white lily flower crown was perched. Her lips were decorated a rich blood red, as for her cheeks were a soft pink, all the while, what caught Jeanne's eyes were the Spaniard's. Bright unpolished emerald orbs smiled at her.

Jeanne descended the stairs and held a smile on her lips, the lady was so beautiful. Isabel's figure was astonishing; a perfect hourglass shape. Her body so perfect and the dress fit all her curves in a too glorious manner.

The infanta sighed softly and brought a bright smile to her lips, she then proceeded to walking towards Jeanne -that is after she had already greeted Francis and Charlotte.

"Are you Jeanne d'Arc? The one I've been hearing so much about?" The lady's voice was a bit rough because of her accent, but nonetheless it was calming, _very calming. _

"Oui, your Grace, I am Jeanne d'Arc." She bowed before the young royal.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you." There was something in the infanta's voice that made Jeanne a bit nervous.

"As it is an honour to meet you."

"May I?" The Spaniard lady lifted her hand.

"Oui..." Jeanne was confused of what the lady meant but agreed either way.

Isabel touched Jeanne's cheek softly, she caressed the younger girls cheeks for a while, holding some sort of sorrow in her eyes, even if her smile said otherwise. Dropping her hand on the other's shoulder, she then kissed each of Jeanne's cheeks. "Forgive me, your cheeks seemed really soft, I had to feel them before properly greeting you the way us Spaniards do." She smiled softly.

Jeanne smiled brightly for she found that the Spaniard custom was rather cute and informal. "Please, do not fret." She mumbled lightly.

"I very much fancy you." Isabel smiled.

"As do I, my lady." Jeanne bowed once more.

"Oh do not strain yourself, amor, you do not need to bow, I am a very informal person, so please do not treat me like a royal."

Jeanne nodded as she saw the similarities between Isabel and Francis, they were literally perfect for one another.

"They tell me that you are an orphan, is that correct, my dear?" Isabel hooked her arm around the younger female's.

"Up until around three months ago I was not, but ever since then, as the French Law declares, I am indeed an orphan..." Jeanne did not like the term, but she did not have any others to describe her current situation.

"Oh, you poor dear, please accept my empathy." The lady spoke as they made their way inside the house. "I have some gifts from Spain for you, my dear."

"You really did not need to do that. You did not even know me little less than ten minutes ago."

"But I feel like I have known you for a long time, as if we were sisters of sorts." She giggled. "Now, let us go see your gifts."

They walked up the grand stair case and were led to the room that was prepared for the infanta, of course it was a lot bigger than Jeanne's because she was royalty after all. The Spaniard began to unpack after the servants had left her bags. She looked about for the souvenirs she had brought with her for Jeanne. After finding the objects, she pulled them out and set them on the bed.

"From what Francis told me, you fit his young mother's size, and thus I had this dress made just for you! I also got you this pin, and this." The infanta pointed at the dress, pin, and golden rosary.

"You really should not have." The peasant was overwhelmed by the loveliness of the objects.

"Well, I really wanted you to have some gifts from me." She smiled brightly and held Jeanne's hands in hers. "Plus, I want us to become really good friends because I see you staying with us for a long time."

The dress was ever so beautiful, it was a creamy white, with jewels all over; decorating it to seem like one big diamond. White lace made the dress a long sleeve and made it have a turtle neck. Although it was still flirty, the dress was rather conservative; not exactly hiding all her skin but still managing to so as well. On the other hand, the hair pin was simple. A white lily ornament connected to an iron pin. Finally, the rosary's beads pure jade, having the chain gold and a beautiful crucifix of gold as well.

"Thank you." Jeanne smiled brightly. She would surely treasure these gifts for the remainder of her life, and never would she feel ungrateful for them.

"I want you to wear the dress on a special occasion. I do not know which one, but I want everyone to be stunned when they see how beautiful you are. Trust me, I assure you that you, my dear, are one of the most beautiful ladies I have ever met. Now, if I am not correct, should we not be getting ourselves downstairs for that meal that the servants were working so hard to make. I am sure that it will be just delicious!"

Jeanne really loved the Spaniard's optimistic attitude. Her smile seemed to brighten up her soul and made her feel happy and cheerful. Plus, the infanta's voice was so sweet that it made Jeanne want to listen to it all day; She would truly never get tired of the Spaniard, and hopefully the Spaniard did not get tired of her either.

The meal was most certainly delicious, the servants even made it obtain a certain Spanish twist with the seafood and spices. Truly, Isabel was both impressed and happy about their work. It really felt like she was at home, but she was still dying to try French cuisine for it had been so long since she had done so, about three months or so, she was unsure.

"You outdid yourselves." Isabel smiled as she drank from her wine.

"Really?" Francis lifted an eyebrow. "Personally this has a strong French taste."

"And that is why I enjoy it so much, it is because the French make such a delicious taste to their food."

"Like...?"

"It seems sweeter and much more royal." She laughed lightly. "You know, one day I'm going to take you to Spain with me and you are going to try our salty food," she turned to Jeanne, "and I am sure you will very much like it because you will get tired of this sweet food like I once did." Her giggle was sweet and not meant to offend.

"Everyone loves French Cuisine, and I really do not understand as to how the Burgundians even enjoy such tasteless English food." Francis joked as he bit into a strawberry.

"The Burgundians believe that the English are more Fancy, but that is one enormous lie, considering the French always make the latest fashions." Isabel smirked. "Well, enough about the enemy: Jeanne, tell me more about yourself..."

Jeanne lifted her head from her plate and looked at Isabel for a short while before glancing at Francis who nodded at her. "I-I... Well... I'm sixteen..." She mumbled.

"Mmhmm." The Infanta nodded.

"And... I had two older brothers and a younger one, so you could imagine what kind of life I lived when younger."

"I have three older brothers and two younger sisters, and trust me that is a lot to handle, so I understand how you felt." She laughed.

"They always made the largest of messes and I would have to take care of them, It was beyond me."

"Oh, I can only imagine, that must have been hard, but they were great company I bet."

"Yes, they were. They teased me a bunch, but I really loved them. They were good kids, they really were, and I really loved them. " She had such love in her eyes as well as sadness.

"I am so sorry..." Isabel looked down at her food and fidgeted with the fork, regretting bringing up the question and subject.

"Oh please, do not apologize." Jeanne smiled sorrowfully. "Either way, they were good kids and they made my childhood worthwhile."

"Jeanne, I want you to know that you can consider us your new family. Yes it is true, I may have just met you, but Francis has told me so much about you and I really care about you already. So please do think we are like family." Isabel was upset that she had lost all she ever loved but for that she also admired Jeanne. She might have not been strong at first and she was in such denial that every thing had happened to her, but now she was so strong about every single thing.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." She smiled hopefully at Isabel and felt happy and peaceful for once since she had lost her family.

"Now that we have finished, do you fancy a game of chess in my room?" Isabel smiled.

"Oui." Jeanne was overjoyed in all reality, she was so happy about it all.

"Alright, then let us head upstairs."

"Good day, my ladies." Francis stood as the girls stood.

"Good day, Francis." Both Isabel and Jeanne bowed slightly before retiring to the Spaniard's chambers.

"Francis really admires you."

"Really?"

"Oh yes! He wrote a lot about you in his letters to me."

"Is that so?" Jeanne was truly a little flattered, alright more than a little.

"Oh yes! He wrote so nicely of you that I was always so excited to finally meet you and when I did, I was not disappointed but rather taken aback; you seem too familiar as if I have seen you in a dream or something."

"When I saw you, my princess, I was taken aback by your beauty; so much so that I could have fallen, and that is no exaggeration." Jeanne stated.

"Thank you. But do you want to know what he said about you? He said that he wanted you to find happiness and he would support your decision if you found that happiness somewhere other than this household. He also told me how beautiful you were and how sweet you were. He wants to make you happy, Jeanne, so please believe in him." There something about Jeanne that made Isabel want to cry. Not tears of sadness but rather of such beauty. It was not because of Jeanne's beauty, for Jeanne was very average looking, but rather her spirit.

"I do, milady."

"Please do not be so formal." Isabel smiled. "I love your hair, Jeanne; it looks very silky."

"Oh, thank you. I do not really think much of my hair, it has always been something I never paid attention to because as a peasant I had to worry less about my hair and more on my farm..." Jeanne did not mean to sound rude in anyway but Isabel took it as if she had been offended.

"Oh, I apologize I did not think you hated nobility, oh forgive me... I always manage to ruin things, do I not?"

"Oh no, sorry, I was not the slightest bit offended, I had just really realized it at that exact moment that I never cared for my hair. I am deeply sorry, forgive me." It was Jeanne who then apologized for her words this time around.

"Please, I have been speaking out of turn since I have arrived."

"If anyone is speaking out of turn it is I, your highness." Jeanne bowed.

"Then how about none of us has? And we keep to our first names?" Isabel replied and took the young girl into her chambers.

They sat down and looked at the chess board.

"Honestly, I did not want to play chess, I wanted to speak with you." Isabel began, taking a bishop in her delicate hands.

"Oh, of course, do go on." Jeanne nodded her head.

"You see... I have been thinking, Jeanne, that you have been through a lot but I know that you do not really want to talk about what you remember and trust me there are many things I would like to keep to myself as well, but trust me, if you do not tell anyone you will drown in desperation, I will always be willing to listen." Isabel smiled sweetly at Jeanne, her eyes smiling as well.

"Thank you." Jeanne felt so safe with the Infanta, it was something that made her happy.

"I will always be here." She repeated.

The girl had become rather close in the proceeding weeks, they even had a picnic once, but Jeanne was still afraid to tell the infanta about her encounter with the Burgundians. In addition, it was rather complicating with the entire status difference.

"Jeanne! I wish to ask you something?"

"Yes, Isabel?" Jeanne lifted her head from the knitting she was doing.

"Would you like to go riding with Francis and I?" She asked as she clapped her hands together.

"Yes, of course, when will we be going?" She mumbled.

"In half an hour please get ready, we are definitely going and I want to show you something I found of my way here, alright?" Isabel smiled.

"Alright." Jeanne nodded as the Spaniard exited the room.

Jeanne had looked at the dress she was currently making, it was going rather good and the dress was looking beautiful. She liked it and was excited for when she was able to give it to Isabel. Moving on, the lady stood from her seat and walked to the closet; she did not want to change her clothing but she was unsure if the light dress she was wearing was appropriate for a ride.

Mounting the horse, Jeanne joined the other two young adults and smiled at them. "It is a really lovely day to ride." She stated.

"Oh yes! It is an amazing day!" Isabel smiled brightly. "In addition, I believe that the picnic will be perfect since the day is so beautiful, right Francis?"

"Oui, it will be." Francis nodded. He was glad that Jeanne had fit in so nicely into the manor. He was so happy that Jeanne and Isabel were very friendly.

"Well then, we should be off." Isabel smiled and commanded her horse to gallop ahead to the river far from the manor.

Soon enough they arrived at an abandoned church atop a peek of a hill. Isabel loved mysterious places and so she was really happy to see the abandon church.

"Let's go in!" She clapped her hands together.

Francis was quick to agree for he had always loved adventure. But Jeanne was a little sceptical about the whole entering the church ordeal. She did not really want to for some strange reason.

"How about I scope the outside? While you two check the inside." She reasoned.

Isabel saw no problem in it and shrugged. "Sí, si usted quiere." She smiled as Francis followed her inside the abandoned church.

For a rather peculiar reason, Jeanne found the church all too familiar and she honestly did not want to know why.

Isabel entered the church quietly, after moving a heavy birch door she was able to see the beautiful structure. The church had a cathedral ceiling, as for the alter, it was simple but still beautiful. The pews and alter table were made out of fine birch, the same as the door. The stone floor was covered with growing flowers and plants within the cracks of the stones. Although the stained glass windows were partially cracked or even broken, the light was still filtered into the church with such beautiful patterns and colours.

"It is rather amazing..." Francis mumbled.

"It is..." Isabel smiled brightly.

Francis was the first to move as he inspected the church, and after finding nothing out of the ordinary he returned to Isabel after a couple of minutes, who remained standing in the same spot Francis had left her.

"I can tell you adore it." Francis smiled. "Well then, I will leave you to it then; in the meantime, I will be looking for Jeanne." He stated but the Spaniard did not reply at all.

Isabel was so amazed that she wished to sit down and so she slowly made her way to the front of the church. She imagined being draped in a white dress, her figure ever so happy that she wanted to die right then. She would love to get married at a place like this. She glanced ahead of her and imagined her groom waiting for her; it was not necessarily Francis, because that could always change, but she imagine that she loved that mysterious man that God had given to her. She looked at the pews and imagined her family and his sitting on them, smiling and blowing her kisses. She took all the time she needed to process the beauty of the church. She sat on the right hand of the church in one of the pews at the front. Her hand flew to the birch beside her. Feeling the rough wood beneath her finger tips she thought of how many people sat there; the mass they had attended, or the marriage they had witnessed, or even when they mourned for their loss.

"It is so beautiful..." Isabel mumbled as tears sprung from her eyes.

"It is..." A voice came from the back of the church.

Isabel's head snapped to where the sound of the voice was heard, there she saw a man standing by the door. She could not see him clearly for the sun was glaring at her. But she saw that he was handsome and tall.

"A-ah yes..." Isabel continued as the man approached. "Do you live near by? Am I trespassing?"

"You could say I live near by, but you are not trespassing by any means." The man came into clear view. He was dark haired and very very handsome. His smile was sweet and sincere and he had dimples on either sides of his cheeks.

"Oh..." She mumbled lightly, her voice near whisper.

"The church is two hundred years old. It's been abandoned for thirty five but that is already been a very long time."

"But nature makes it look so beautiful..." Isabel smiled.

"It does, does it not?" He smiled as well. "Your friend, Jeanne, is a very important person."

Isabel did not notice it, but how did he know Jeanne was her friend.

"She is an amazing girl. Please take care of her. By the trough of the hill is her village. She used to love to come here when her life was not so destroyed; though her mother would not usually allow it. Ironically though, her mother sent her here to spare her from the Burgundians." The man spoke as he looked up at the crucifix.

"Who are you...?" Isabel was hesitant to ask but she decided she needed to know.

"A friend. An ally. One that will do his best to help you." He kept his gaze of Jesus.

"How so? You seem to know much about Jeanne. Are you perhaps her brother? Someone she thought she lost?" Isabel was confused.

"I am her friend. I care about her and when she knows it is her time to complete her fate, she will see me as her friend as well and she will want to be my friend."

"Her fate?"

"You will see, Isabel, be patient for God and I will guide et to greatness."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean to say that the time will come until you understand. But do not fret for I will help you all throughout your journey and hers. Understand that you are to help greatness and greatness is to help you." The male stood and gave her a bright smile as he began to leave.

"B-but-" Isabel was cut short.

"You will see me often, and until the next time; may The Lord our God help you and bless you in your journeys." The male looked back to give her one last smile before vanishing into the sunlight.

"W-wait!" Now Isabel was way beyond confused, but once the man had disappeared to thin air, she was dumbfounded.

Her mind began to roam until a high pitched screech invaded her ears. She was startled and afraid at first, but that was only for a little while before the screams became more and more constant.

"Jeanne!" Isabel realized that the voice was way too familiar. Now she began to panic; what had happened to her friend?

Quickly, Isabel made her way out of the church and to the source of the screaming. Although the screams echoed around her in the woods, she could make out in which direction the screams were erupting from.

Isabel ran down the hill, dodging trees and jumping over roots and rocks, trying her best to find her friend. Her dress was ripping and tearing, but she cared little for those things. Even when she ran into a pool of mud, she continued without a thought of stopping.

"Jeanne!" She yelled out as the screams seemed to approach and a faint foul stench also got stronger. "Jeanne!"

The screams were deafening and Isabel wanted to cover her ears, but she resisted the urge.

Finally, as if it had taken her ages, she saw Jeanne on the floor crying her heart out and screaming as she looked upon the land before her. There were skeletons scattered about the floor for kilometre or so. Not exactly skeletons yet because some bodies still obtained flesh .

Isabel's eyes grew wide and she almost hurled but she suppressed it. Her attention diverted to Jeanne, who remained screaming and crying on the floor.

"Jeanne! Jeanne! Look at me, look at me!" Isabel hurried to her and fell to the floor in front of her.

Jeanne remained screaming, tears streaming down her face, as her eyes held something more than sorrow and depression; Isabel could not explain it.

"Jeanne!" Isabel took the Frenchwoman's face in her hands and made her look at her. "Jeanne look at me, look at only me."

"T-t-they were..." Jeanne cried.

"Just look at me, alright? Forgive me, but stop crying, alright?" She hushed softly to calm down the other figure.

"M-my village..."

"Listen to me, Jeanne. Your life is with us now, I can assure you that your village is in a happier place now. They are hoping for you to be happy and move on. So please Jeanne, do them and me the favour, move on; your head held high, your mind in a positive state, alright?"

"M-my family!" Jeanne tried to stand but her knees gave out and she fell to the floor again.

"Jeanne, listen, listen, they are happy now."

* * *

The Burgundians and a troop of an English fleet had attacked her village on a spring evening, setting houses on fire, capturing women, slaughtering children, fighting men; that was how it had all begun. She remembered how her mother hurried to find something really important within their stone house. But as the screams of people approached; she had grabbed the rosary and ran to her daughter.

"Mon amour, listen, please listen. You are still quite young and I love you, go to the church, okay?" Her mother panted.

"But maman, what about father? And my brothers?" Jeanne hurried to grab other objects as well.

"Jeannette, dear, you mustn't take anything with you. The Burgundians may find you."

"What do you mean mother?"

"Go to the church on the hill within the forest, take refuge there and until we come to get you, do not return. Don't even look back." Her mother shook.

"What do you mean? You are not coming with me?" Jeanne began to tear up.

The screams grew by the second, and the evening sun set to make way for the new warm light. Fires lit the town in orange and yellow; sparks flew in the sky as if they were harmless fireflies.

"I need to find your father to tell him where you are." The elder lady answered.

"But maman, please, come with me."

"I cannot."

At the exact moment they had hugged, Burgundian soldiers had burst the door open and began to pull the two females from one another's arms.

"Maman!" Jeanne screamed, she felt the strong soldier's arms squeeze her ever so hard the she might have died.

"Jeannette! Run!" Her mother wailed.

Jeanne had been taken outside and thrown on the floor, which was when the soldier had leaned onto her and stared at her with lustful eyes. Jeanne feared for both her life and virginity at this point.

She saw the men of her town try to defeat the large Burgundian group, she saw them fall to the floor and gasp their last breath. She saw the women run around trying to hide between the burning hell, and children failing to follow their mothers and either falling or being shot by arrows.

"Bonjour, ma chérie, you are rather beautiful." The soldier gently pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Jeanne, still remaining with pride, spat at the man, only to be pushed onto the muddy floor completely, being pinned down by the man with angry orbs.

Something important had to happen because he was no longer on top of her, yet instead groaning on the mud next to her.

"Jeannette! Get up!" The voice of her older brother yelled loudly and he helped her up.

"Jean? Jean! Jean!" She began to cry as she threw her arms around him.

"Run Jeannette, run. Go! Run away, now! I'll get maman and Pierre. Father is... Just run Jeannette run!" Her brother pushed her so that she would get going.

"No, no Jean, I cannot leave without you." She shook her head rapidly, hearing the screams and seeing the hell that was her village.

"Go Jeannette!"

"B-but-"

"Jeannette! Go! I promise we will be fine! I promise you! Go!"

"No!"

"Jeanette, go! Go now! It will be alright, go! I'll protect maman and Pierre!" Jean was upset and hurt that she didn't want to save herself. "Jeannette, Jeannette, go, one of use has to survive, please go."

Jeanne no longer argued but instead turned and began to run. She ran past the many wails and groans of pain, screams of help, even prayers. She ran past her dead and dying friends, past her people, past her neighbours and even enemies. As much as she had wanted to stop and help, her body did not stop running. She ran over puddles of mud and blood, past the burning crops, past the destroyed houses, past her life. She ran away from everything she had ever known, but she ran with grief and sadness. Finally finding refuge upon the abandoned church on the hill within the forest, she hid under the stone table upon the altar and hugged her knees. She did not exactly remember the entire run to the church but it seemed she had forgotten something important.

The church did look a little old. Some of the stained glass windows were broken as the trees had decided to hug the beautiful building. The crucifix, although rather old, was perfect. Grass grew within the granite floor and the pews were slightly covered with vines.

Branches and twigs had scratched her all over her body and even torn her dress. She was afraid that the soldiers would find the trail that would lead them straight to her.

There she began to cry for what seemed like months, until someone had entered the church. Yet it had only been five days since the village was attacked and she hope for her mother and brothers to come to her soon for she was only surviving on collected rain water in the church.

Armour clanged against itself and boots formed footsteps on the granite floor.

"Hello my dear Lord." A strong husky voice came. "Forgive my comrades, my dear Lord. Forgive them, for I know that what they do is wrong, I know that that is not your will... Forgive us."

"Hey, are you done inspecting the place? We found some pieces of clothing stuck to some branches." Another soldier's voice demanded.

"Almost done." The main male replied the proceeded to look around, mumbling for God to forgive them all.

Finally, Jeanne could see his feet under the mantle and ever so close to her.

Jeanne covered her mouth as if to stop her breathing, but once the soldier crouched down, Jeanne knew it was most likely going to end it death.

The man lifted the mantle and his green eyes widened at the sight of the poor girl.

Jeanne was prepared to scream until his hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Shhh, I will not hurt you." He hushed. "Are you from the village?"

Jeanne held fear and sorrow in her eyes, she was afraid that if she answered he would make sure there were no survivors.

"I promise, I will not harm you." He mumbled gently. "And you promise me to keep quiet." His English accent was strong but all the while soothing to her ears. It felt nice to not hear screams but rather whispers.

After Jeanne's approval, the soldier removed his hand from her mouth and mumbled. "Are you from the village at the bottom of this hill?"

"Y-yes..." She whispered.

The man smiled ever so brightly and hugged her tightly. "I am so glad that at least one was spared." He whispered.

The poor French girl was confused but mumbled a small thank you, for she was truly thankful that God had sent her a merciful man.

"I must go now, do not leave the church for another day, we will be long gone by then, and I am sorry I was not able to bring you food, hopefully you find some before you die... Good luck." He said as he stood and left the church after reciting an Our Father in thanksgiving for the last of the village's inhabitants.

Jeanne had done as the man instructed, and by the morrow, she had decided to return to the village.

That was when she had seen that she was the only thing alive in the entirety of her village.

Bodies scattered the floor, and going a week without food, she was weak. As a result she ended up falling on the many bodies.

Amongst the horrid display before her, she found the bodies of her family. This had caused her to fall on her knees and begin to bawl her eyes out.

"You promised it would all be alright, Jean... You promised." She cried into her dead brother's chest.

"You promised Jean! You promised! Why? Why did you lie to me? Jean, why? Why? If you knew this was going to happen, why did you lie?"

After sitting next to her deceased family members, she began to tell stories of when they all lived like a happy family in the peaceful French country side. Of course no one really hearing her and she was not telling her family, but rather God. Of course in reality she was not able to remember the stories of which she told for she did not even recall her own past.

After remaining with them for hours, she stood and began to walk over the dead bodies once more, hoping to at least find someone else in this lifeless monstrosity.

But after searching and searching she had become sleep deprived and exhausted, this resulted into her becoming rather weak and hopeless.

* * *

"Jeanne! Jeanne!" She was shaken awake by Isabel. "Oh thank God you are alright!" She sighed loudly.

"Isa...bel...?" Her brows weakly furrowed as the face of the beautiful lady became clear.

"Oh Jeanne, thank you." Isabel smiled.

"Where am I?" The girl inquired with a raspy and confused voice. Her eyes wandered around her and noticed the blue sky filtered by the many leaves.

"Francis has not found us yet..." Isabel mumbled to the woods around her. "I tried to get you as far from the village as possible but it was very hard for me, so I only got you half way up the hill..."

"I remembered everything..." She was not listening to what Isabel had to say.

"You did?"

"They tried to protect me..." Jeanne stared up at the sky as she watched the clouds roll over them.

"A family always does that."

"But they tried so hard. They all wanted me to survive; my father, my mother and my brothers. They all wished for me to survive."

Isabel remained silent for she knew the young girl was reflecting on what she could have done to save her village.

"I do not know why they did not want to save themselves, they only protected me the only way they could..."

"A family strives for the best, and clearly they wanted the best for you." Isabel mumbled.

Jeanne remained silent and did not speak a single word for she simply wished to let the horrid events of the past wash over her and disappear once and for all.

"I have a feeling your family saved you because they knew you were destined to be great, they knew that one day you would be all that everyone needed the entire time."

Jeanne listened to Isabel's words as she weakly stood. Maybe Isabel was right, but not even the richest of nobles had everything to be what someone needed.

"I would like to visit my house..." She mumbled.

Isabel looked up at Jeanne and stood slowly as well. "I do not wish to stop you, but the bodies..."

"As long as I can see my house I think I can survive for the entirety of my life..."

"Alright, and as soon as we do so we must find Francis. It is highly impossible he did not hear your screams..."

"We must hurry then." Jeanne seemed surprisingly calm now, Isabel was not sure if it was because she finally screamed to her heart's content or because she finally remembered everything.

"Come on, it is this way." Jeanne directed as Isabel did not budge to move the slightest.

"O-oh, y-yes." Isabel was pulled by the younger female.

They made their way back to the bottom of the hill to face the mostly decomposed bodies. Jeanne tried to avert her gaze from the skeletal faces of her neighbours and friends. All the while, Isabel tried her best not to look at the skeletons. Her eyes were glued on them as her mind sent empathy Jeanne's way.

"Where was you house?" Isabel wanted to avert her attention.

"The stone brick house on the far left." Jeanne pointed at a two story house that still stood decently built.

The stone was smoked but it did not seem to be damaged in a great deal. Jeanne hoped that she was not the only to survive this ordeal, and whether or not it was someone she disliked she only wished she was not the only one.

Jeanne began to walk first; her feet walked over the bodies and she lifted her muddied dress as to not disrupt the dead. Isabel was soon to follow with the same steps as Jeanne had made a pathway in between the skeletons.

The ladies remained quite as the atmosphere around them felt dense and rather heavy. It was very unnatural; no birds chirped, no insects beamed, no animals scurried around them and no wind blew. It was as if they had met with the most supernatural place on earth. As if they were standing on the thread between what was real and what was unrealistic, as if they had crossed and stood between the two parallels of life and death.

"Jeanne... I do not seem fond of this..." Isabel felt uneasy as she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"We are nearly there." Jeanne replied as she too felt what Isabel was currently feeling.

"Alright." The Spaniard gulped.

Finally, they had reached the house and Jeanne glanced at the bodies around the structure; had the weather been so brutal as to have the bodies nearly completely decomposed.

"It seems like it was rather beautiful..." Isabel smiled sorrowfully as she imagined the fields fully grown and the flowers blooming.

"It was, if I recall correctly." Jeanne smiled in return as they stepped foot into her house.

Other than the misplaced objects and the destroyed furniture the house was in good shape. The Burgundians were not as evil as to set it on fire and so the house was in tact.

"Do you know how to start a fire?" Jeanne asked quietly.

"Yes... Why?" Isabel questioned as she paced around the living room.

"Please set it on fire. The memories I have last of this house are not beautiful, so please do me the favour of letting those memories burn with it and only the good ones to remain."

"B-but Jeanne..."

"Please."

Isabel grabbed two stones from the outside of the house and walked in, she made a pile of scattered wood and began to clash the stones together. After much anticipation, the rocks sparked and created a small fire.

"We should begin upstairs." Jeanne announced as they each took a torch of fire with them.

Upon arriving at the top floor, the females set the furniture and clothing on fire. It was hard for Isabel to obey Jeanne's orders because she knew that Jeanne loved this house more than anything in this world.

"Please, Isabel..." Jeanne begged as she saw that the infanta was hesitant about her command.

"Yes of course." Isabel nodded as she obeyed her friend and they proceeded to burn the ground floor.

Jeanne and Isabel stood outside the house; watching as the structure began to burn on the inside. Jeanne only stared with such sadness but at the same time relief. It was as if she could finally move forward for nothing was holding her back anymore.

"Francis is probably looking for us now..." Jeanne spoke and turned to face away from her house as tears weld in her eyes and her nose began to tingle.

"Yes..." Isabel let her gaze remain on the burning house.

"Are you coming?" Jeanne asked once she noticed the infanta staring at the house.

"Oh, yes, sorry Jeanne."

The two walked back to the top of the hill but took their time doing so because they had a feeling Francis was waiting a top the hill.

"May you please not tell Francis of what occurred?" Jeanne mumbled.

"You have my word that I shall not tell." Isabel shot a soft smile.

"Alright then..." Jeanne nodded lightly.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, the pair saw the man sitting next to his horse with his head in his hands.

"Francis!" Isabel sighed loudly and ran to him, her muddied dress patting down the grass behind her.

"Isabel!" Francis quickly stood and met her mid stride to hug her tightly.

Jeanne panted slightly and dropped her head. She felt so weak and she could feel her knees begin to buckle slightly. Her mind focused on keeping awake and standing, she was unsure if she could hold up much longer. Her joints ached and her muscles seemed to turn into lumps of unstructured mass. They seemed jello-like and could not contract or stretch when needed. No matter how much she tried to remain standing, she fell to the floor and became unconscious.

* * *

The land around her burned like a fiery hell, the men fell one by one as the sword in her hands felt heavy and she dropped it. Quickly, she let her hands cover her ears as she tried to mute out the horrid battle cries the soldiers let out.

She desperately tried to mute them as she covered her ears more intently. But even if she went deaf, she knew that she was still going to hear the screams of the soldiers. Then as the despair seemed too much for her to handle, the skies opened up and a light beamed through the clouds that seemed to drape the land in utter darkness.

From the light, a figure emerged. Lovely blue and white draped the beautiful figure. It was a man, a very handsome man that obtained white wings from his shoulder blades. He had a sword strapped onto his waist on a light brown belt. A lance in his right arm and he as well wore light armour over his white robes and the blue sash remained wrapped around his arms. "Do not be afraid, my child; I have come to let you know of your future, if you so choose it."

"You shall be great, my dear child, for you are to save the kingdom of France." The figure spoke. "So rise, my young one, rise and be the leader that one day you will soon become. If you choose this fate you choose to follow along at side the strong. Choose, my dear, choose the path you would like to take. Fight for your country in the name of The Lord or remain seated and watch as your beautiful country falls."

Jeanne was mesmerized by the beauty the figure beheld, but she nodded lightly and tried her best to stand on her own feet and she did so with much courage.

The male took her hand in his and smiled ever so brightly at her. "You have chosen the right path; you have chosen the path that will lead you to pure and utter greatness. You will be remembered in the minds of men for centuries to come. You cannot tell many people of this, only your heart will tell you who can know."

Jeanne smiled back and the land around her no longer beheld the scream of dying men, but rather the chants and roars of the many victorious men. The sky cleared up and the men stood from where they had fallen. the meadow grew grass and wild flowers as Jeanne wore armour. It was an army of angels; her army.

* * *

She awoke on her bed, actually the bed she was given, and she sat up slowly, taking sight of the things around her. Everything was normally set and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, not that anything was, but she was still mesmerized by the figure that had appeared in her dream. She had also wondered how they had brought her home after she had given out in front of the church.

She closed her eyes for a short while, trying her best to imagine the figure again. She was sure he was an angel, and by the sword he had, she suspected he was an archangel, most likely Michael. But what was it that he wished from her? He did say she was to be great, but in what? She wished to remain alone for a long while to straighten things in her mind, but not all she wishes comes true. In the exact instant that Jeanne had laid back down, a certain blond male entered the room.

Jeanne twitched her head towards the door noting that the male remained looking at the floor.

"Hmm... What did she mean?" The male spoke to himself. "What did she mean by _great._..?"

Jeanne remained silent and pretended to be asleep, but once the man had sat on the bed next to her, she slowly and convincingly opened her blue orbs.

"Oh, you're awake! Good lord!" Francis smiled. "How have you slept?"

"How did I get here?" She mumbled lightly, seeming more realistic. There was nothing to hide but she felt as if she needed to.

"Oh... After you collapsed, Isabel got you on her horse and we rode back slowly, making sure not to harm you in the process."

"How long..."

"Three days, I only came by to check on you, I'm glad to see you are doing well and have finally awoken, but Isabel is highly concerned about you; she is rambling about you and things of the sort, you might want to speak with her about those." Francis explained as he looked at her for he was used to her not waking up for days, noting that she had possibly awoken before he had entered.

"Yes, I shall do that..." She slowly nodded.

"Did you, perhaps..." Francis began, "see anything with Isabel back there?"

"Pardonnez-moi?" She tilted her head to her right, observing the Frenchman's face.

"I was only pondering about something that Isabel had said and I had thought that you possibly had seen it too..."

"What did she see?" Jeanne mumbled, fearing she was stepping out of line.

"It is best if she explains that to you, mon ange, mais, as far as I know, it was nothing horrible, so to speak."

"When will I be able to see her?"

"I can call on her right away for you, since I do need to see her either way, so just sit still and she should be here in a couple of minutes." Francis smiled.

"Alright, thank you, Francis." She smiled lightly and sat up straight.

Francis filed out of the room and headed for Isabel's chambers. He smiled at the thought that Jeanne seemed to be perfectly fine, but after a little while he noticed that she did seem a little off.

"Francis Bonnefoy; duke of Lorraine and Alsace." A footman called as Francis entered the room.

"Oh, you are back. And what calls you here?" They had a small fight before he proceeded to check on Jeanne and thus Isabel was giving him a small glare.

"Jeanne has awoken and she asks if she can see you." Francis spoke and bowed slightly for she was still of Spanish royal Kin; a princess to be exact.

"Of course she can; I shall go visit her right away." Isabel nodded and stood from the seat she was currently at, writing a letter to her parents of her stay this far.

"She is waiting for you." Francis spoke and turned to leave, trying not to say something out of hand.

"Francis, if you will not support my decision, know that I will leave either way, and I will take Jeanne with me whether you would so care as to come along with us or not." Isabel walked gracefully towards him, even if he was not looking at her and had his back to her.

"I will not allow you to leave so foolishly." The male stated as he left the room.

Isabel followed closely behind and left the room as well. "You cannot order the infanta of Spain."

"But I can order my future wife to do what I please."

"If I were in your position I would not be so keen on the idea." Isabel grunted and headed for Jeanne's room, trying her absolute best not to speak lowly of the man. Her head hurt by now and she knew she was definitely red or something of the sort.

She opened the door brutally, startling Jeanne, but once she saw her she smiled brightly. "Oh Jeanne! How are you? Do you hurt? Was it because we burnt the house?" Isabel hurried to her.

"Oh, I am fine, thank you." Jeanne nodded. "No I am not hurt, and I do not believe it is because of that."

"Jeanne, I might seem crazy to you as I am to Francis at the moment, but have you met a man since you discovered your village?" Isabel sat on a chair next to the bed.

"A man?" Jeanne lifted a blond eyebrow and looked at Isabel a little confused.

"Yes, a man; a very handsome one. He was tall and quite majestic." Isabel explained.

"A man, that I have met? I saw a majestic being in my dreams... He said something about my future... But then again it was a dream." Jeanne thought for a bit.

"What did he say?" The infanta cocked her head to her right.

"The man in my dreams?" Jeanne looked at Isabel, the figure had warned her not to tell unless she felt she could trust them; but in her heart she knew she could trust Isabel.

"Sí, the man in your dreams."

"He said I was to be great. I do not understand what he meant but all I know is that I shall save France."

"You will be great... The man I met said the same." Isabel spoke. "Save France? What does he mean?"

"I do not know..." She shrugged.

The two spoke of the men each one had seen and they had come to the conclusion that he was indeed the same man; but why was it that they had seen him in totally different situations?

They talked about their future until it was late in the night and Isabel had retired to her room and proceeded to ready herself for bed. She thought about the man and confused herself on how Jeanne had seen him in her dreams but Isabel had not. Once she laid herself to bed and blew out her candle, she had recalled the events of the previous days.

* * *

_The fire climbed high into the night and watched in tears as a girl was sentenced to the stake. Her green eyes were wide and red with the tears she had cried earlier and as the girl was set on fire, Isabel screamed. Her throat did not stop her cry and she was awoken by the sound of her own voice._

Isabel panted as beads of sweat glistened down her forehead. The young lady was caught off guard by the nightmare and she shook her head vigorously. She had hoped she would stop dreaming that. It had been two months since she had ha the nightmare, and she hoped it had left her, but the night proved that it stalked her like a dark shadow.

"Who goes there?" Isabel asked, her heart in her throat and her hand flying to the sword attached to her bedside once she had heard movement in her room.

The moonlight only allowed a certain part of her room to be lit, and the rest was left in utter darkness. She mumbled a couple of threatening words as if they would dispel whomever lurked in her chambers.

"Be not afraid, I come to you with all means of peace." A quite familiar voice spoke from the shadows. Then a man emerged, the man she had met at church.

Quickly, Isabel drew her sword and pointed it at the man. "Why have you you followed me here? You are aware I can have your life taken from you."

"You are in no position to end the life of a man. No one in this world has the power to end the life of another, only God does." The man replied and took a seat on the couch in front of her bed.

"Why are you in my chambers?" She repeated.

"You had a dream of a girl burning at the stake."

"How do you know?" Isabel glared at the man.

"I much more about you than you know of yourself." He smiled lightly. "I have come to tell you to not be afraid of this dream. The dream tells you the future; whether it be completed or not."

"Future? Of who?" Isabel loosened the grip on the sword and slowly lowered it.

"Your friend; Jeanne d'Arc."

Now Isabel was upset; she dropped the sword unto her lap and held her head with her hand. "H-how do I stop it?" She asked the man.

"You will know how to save her when it is time. Please, do not fret, for knowing what God has planned is a gift only few can imagine to have, while the others would not even dream of having because it is too grand for them. The future behold a truth and deceptions as well, but believe me, you will thank God for this gift."

"Who are you?"

"You already know who I am, and so does Jeanne. I was the figure that appeared to her in her dreams, but to her I come with all my glory, while I come to you as a modest friend. I command Jeanne, but I advise you."

"Are you an angel?" She mumbled lightly.

"Yes, indeed I am." The man nodded and stood from the couch with a soft smile on his lips.

"Which angel?" She questioned.

"You already know." He smiled at her brightly. "Now heed my words, and do good; follow Jeanne until the end." The man then vanished into thin air and Isabel was left in astonishment and thought.

After the first day, she had encountered the angel many more times. It was an angel indeed for the following day, Isabel had hurried to the chapel in Francis' estate, where she had found a portrait of Saint Michael. Of course it was Michael all along! Why had she not noticed it in the church before? Or in her room?

"Jeanne must crown the king of France in the île de France; there she will prove that she was truly sent from God." The voice of Archangel Michael filled the room.

Immediately Isabel had the idea to take Jeanne to the Dauphin of France, but how would she do that without the consent of Francis; and that was how they had come upon the argument. Francis had considered her unwell and unstable. She was not to leave the house whether she agreed to it or not.

* * *

Thinking about the events of the previous days made her head ache, and thus she decided to sleep.

Her mind still thought of their fight and with every growing second, she got even more impatient with Francis.

In the morning, Isabel had dashed into Francis' room and stood at the door way, her green eyes turned to slits. "Once Jeanne feels better I am leaving." She announced.

Francis shook his head as her tied up his boots. "You are acting unreasonably." He sighed and stood from his bed.

"No I am not."

"Only because a voice tells you that Jeanne will have the Dauphin crowned does not mean you listen to it."

"A voice in the chapel; the voice of Archangel Michael." She corrected.

"It was your imagination, now forget about it."

"I will not! If God tells you to do something will you ignore Him?"

"No, I-"

"Exactly! I will help Jeanne as much as I possibly can. And if I do not go as your Fiancée to court, I go as the infanta of Spain." Isabel remained still by the doorway.

Francis walked towards her and took a hold of her hand lightly. "I will have none of this, you are my fiancée and have been so for the past ten years, that will not change. Not only am I your fiancé but I am your friend; and I am telling you not to go. If you you do not take my advice as a future husband and long time friend, you will take my command as your current duke." His face became straight and his tone was slightly lower than usual, and most threatening.

"Are you threatening me, Francis?"

"If I must."

"You shan't threaten the Princess of Spain, for that can cause wars between our countries." She gritted her teeth at his audacity.

"I am threatening my fiancée, not the infanta." He looked deeply in her eyes and blinked. "And you will do as I say." He stated before letting her hand go and leaving her in the room alone.

Was Isabel ever going to get her way? What if she could never leave with Francis?

Meanwhile, Jeanne was told to pack because she was to be leaving soon. She was unsure if she was being let go by the family or if they were taking her somewhere, all she knew was that she needed to pack, and Francis was not to know.

"Hello, young lady," a voice spoke from behind her and Jeanne turned to face the door to greet the figure, "I am glad that you are to complete what God has set upon you."

It was the angel from her dreams, he looked exactly like he had in her dream. His wings were not expanded for they would not be able to fit in her chambers, but he was ever so beautiful. Jeanne fell to her knees and began to cry tears of joy. The angel was so beautiful that she had to admire him. The robes of the angel were the softest the world could ever behold, and his attire the finest.

"My dear, you must go to French Court with the Princess of Spain, there you will tell the Dauphin Charles that you are the second half of the prophecy." The angel spoke. "In your dream you chose to fight in order to protect and defend your beloved France, and now you shall do just so."

"But how? How will I save France?"

"The Lord and I will guide you and you shall not fail, but beware of fire." And with his words of wisdom, he disappeared into the light.

In an instant, Jeanne had a change of heart. Her small demeanour changed and she felt strong and courageous. She stood from the floor and hurried to pack her things. It was as if something had washed over her and made her an entirely new person. If she was to crown the Dauphin, she was to do so as soon as possible.

"Jeanne? What are you doing?" Francis had found her packing the last of her things.

"I am to crown the Dauphin of France." She stated as she turned to him.

"What has gotten into you and Isabel?" He was worried now; why were they talking about something so unlikely all of the sudden?

Jeanne smiled softly and made sure to look at Francis in the eyes. "We must leave right away."

"That is not your decision to make, Jeanne, not even Isabel's, alright?" Francis sighed loudly.

"I am sorry Francis but it is not _your_ decision to make." She stated.

"Jeanne, you are not to leave this house! I cannot stand for a peasant not heeding my words!"

"It is nice to know that you remain to see me as a peasant, but heed _my_ words, Francis; if you will not help me, then you are against me and are no different than any Burgundian or English in this Land." Her tone was extraordinary, Francis had never heard her be so forward and brave about anything.

"Now you make no sense at all."

"The prophecy; I am to fulfil it, and if you do not support me, you oppose me." She took her bag and walked out of the room, heading to the carriage that awaited the two young women.

"Jeanne! Are you going insane?" Francis followed her down the grand staircase, noting Isabel was already at the door awaiting Jeanne. "Jeanne! Isabel!" His eyes grew wide as he called out to them, but they dared not look back.

"If you leave, Isabel, notre fiançailles is broken!" He did not like to be defied, specially not by a woman.

"Perdóname, Francis." She mumbled and exited the house.


	4. Memories and Court

**Memories And** **Court**

"Have you collected the corn?" Her mother yelled from the kitchen as Jeanne ran into the house.

"Yes mother, I have enough for the entire family." Jeanne called back.

"The royals are coming by, have you heard?" Jeanne entered the kitchen as her mother asked.

"Yes! I really want to meet them maman!" Jeanne nodded.

"They will only stroll by, there is no need to see them." She stated.

"But maman; I really want to see the royals..." The younger female mumbled as she passed the corn over to her mother.

"Alright, we will watch as they pass us by, but that will be all, sweetie."

"Oh merci maman!" The girl smiled brightly. "When will they arrive?"

"In a day or two... But until then, we must get our work done." Her mother smiled.

The days passed by and within three days, the Royals had been riding through the village, stoping by the pastry shop and by the blacksmith's house. The royals had a couple of children with them; two boys and a small Spanish girl. They had been heading for the Bonnefoy manor for the summer, since there was a lake near by and the children could play around it.

The children had decided to play with the inhabitants of the village. Upon exiting the carriage, the children began to mix and socialize with those of the small town. The youth seemed to enjoy themselves and were having much fun when playing a game of hide-and-seek with everyone else. Jeanne loved to play the certain game because she always knew the best spots to hide and she would always win in the end because nobody could find her. After hiding within the hay stack that was readied for the horses, the young girl awaited for the royal to find her. All the while, Jeanne could not stop giggling for she found running too much fun for her benefit. Sadly, and eventually, she was found because no matter how young you were, you knew horses could not laugh, and definitely not their food.

"Found you!" A little blond boy giggled loudly, pointing at her with a chubby finger.

"Awww!" She laughed along and tried to tumble out of the pile of hay, with it getting stuck all over her.

"Come on!" He took her hand and dragged her around so they could find the remaining players.

Jeanne laughed behind the boy and they ran all around the village trying to find the other children, it turned out that only a couple of children were found by the royal before she was, meaning there were still many to be found, and she would not be the next one to be 'it'.

The day had passed them by and soon it was sunset, making the children stop playing for the sun was beginning to set making it to dark to play about the town. The setting sun had cause for the sky to dress itself in many beautiful pastel-like colours. The clouds coloured themselves in a sweet rose pink while the most eastern part of the sky was a lovely light blue and straight above them, the mantle was a soft violet. The lovely colours continued to vary as you followed the west.

"It was great playing with you, Jeanette!" The little blond royal exclaimed.

"An honour meeting you, Francis!" She smiled back brightly.

* * *

"Oh Jeannette, my dear!" The familiar voice of her mother rang in the teenager's ears.

"Oui, maman?" Jeanne grunted loudly as she put the broom against the wall.

"May you get me some water from the well?"

"Yes mother." Jeanne hung her head.

"Oh! And do not gamble our bucket of water again!" Her mother scolded, for the previous time, Jeanne had bet her friends her water bucket (in which they had also bet a bucket that she would not be able to win) that she could out run one of her friend's brother, who happened to be the fastest of the town; and yet Jeanne won, but her mother was upset that she had bet their bucket.

"Ma! It was only a bucket!"

"But you are not the one buying the bucket!" Her mother retorted.

Jeanne rolled her eyes before running out the door with their, _new_, bucket and hurrying to the the well in the centre of the village.

"Jeannette?" The sun-kissed boy from three houses over questioned once she had got there.

"Oh, Louis? Hello." She smiled as she lowered the bucket of the well.

"How are you?" He placed his own bucket on the ledge of the well.

"Very well, merci beaucoup."

"Enjoying your bucket?" He smirked whilst he rose a dark eyebrow.

"Yes, very much." She laughed. "It is quite a nice bucket, non?"

"Oui, very stylish."

"I was thinking to add some bows on it, what do you say?" She smiled.

"Hmm, yellow bows would be best, you know? It matches the brown shade of the wood." He played along with her.

"Yeah... You're right." She laughed and they continued to talk of the weather and things of the sort.

"So, are you as fast as they say?" He mumbled as she began to haul the bucket up.

"How fast do they say I am?" She looked up at him with a questioning look.

"Faster than Lucrece's brother; the smith's apprentice... What was his name?"

"Christophe? Yes..."

"By how much?"

"We ran from the blacksmith's forge to the church on the hill. I beat him there by fifty five or so seconds."

"That is almost a minute!"

"Yeah; considering that it was uphill." She breathed in heavily just by thinking about the good run she had had with it. "Then I earned myself a bucket!"

"I heard that part." He smiled brightly at her as he lowered the bucket back into the well for his own water, that was after she had poured the substance in her new bucket.

"Yes, the waters I drink from this bucket taste like victory." She laughed.

"I bet so."

"Anyways, I have to head home, or else my mother will think I am gambling our new bucket again."

"Ah yes, I guess so. Alright, it was nice to see you again, Jeanette, till next time."

"Bye! Until next time." She smiled and waved him goodbye, in which he returned the gesture.

Jeanne hurried back to her house and left the water upon the kitchen counter once she had heard the bells of the local church indicate it was three in the afternoon. "Maman! I am going to mend the sheep, I will be back soon!" She called once she had seen that her mother was not inside the house, and before her mother could stop her, Jeanne escaped the structure and made her way to where her friends were tending to the herd.

"Lucrece! Sofie! Christophe!" She called to them as she ran towards the three other teenagers.

"Jeanette!" They all waved at her.

"How are you and Louis?" Lucrece winked.

"What?" Jeanne tilted her head.

"Come on, I saw you flirting with him by the well just little while ago." Sofie giggled.

"He clearly fancies you!" The first added.

"Louis? Non, we are simply friends; I doubt he fancies me..." Jeanne blushed and walked past the tall grass to her favourite sheep; Rosaline.

"He always makes conversation with you, if I were you, I would definitely respond to his attention." Sofie smirked. "He is just about the cutest guy in this village," she then turned to Christophe, "no offence Chris."

"None taken, Sofie." The light haired male shrugged.

"Well other than your older brother." Lucrece bit her bottom lip.

"My brother?" Jeanne questioned.

"I mean they kinda compete for first place, but in this case Louis is cuter, and nicer!" Sofie jumped back into the conversation.

"But what does Louis have to do with me?" Jeanne caressed the sheep's head.

"Ugh! Jeannette you are too innocent!" Lucrece flailed her arms in the air.

"Not innocent enough to bet the darn bucket!" Christophe scoffed for he was still upset he had lost to a girl.

"Look, I know he fancies me, but I am to get married soon, therefore I doubt my father has Louis prepared for me. He probably has some wealthy middle aged man in mind." Jeanne sighed. "It would be nice to have Louis as my husband, because he _is_ really nice, but it will not happen."

"You are always so optimistic, are you not, Jeanette?" Lucrece sarcastically clapped her hands together and gave a fake smile her way.

"You will at least have a small date, I can assure you that." Sofie had some kind of sly smirk on her face, as if she was going to do something about that.

"Look, I know you just wish for me to be happy," Jeanne rolled her eyes, "but you have to understand that it's not going to happen. We do not always get what we want."

"Jeannette! You are always saying that, and yes that is the harsh reality, but would you please just have fun for once?" Christophe spoke this time around.

"I have already bet too many buckets and frankly I haven't anymore to bet." She tried to make a joke out of the situation.

"Oh I have forgotten, Jeannette cannot have fun because at certain extents it is a sin." Lucrece rolled her blue orbs.

After they had fought for a while longer, they had begun to walk the herd back to the village. Jeanne was quite annoyed with her friends because they were a bit too ignorant for her taste. Of course she did not see when her friends had abandoned her with the sheep because she was too busy paying attention to the setting sky, causing for her to get even more irritated with them.

"Jeanette?" She heard a very familiar voice to her right, when she turned to look at the person her suspicions were correct.

"Louis..." She sighed loudly, no wonder they had left her.

"What are you doing alone with the herd? Where are the others?" He questioned. She could see why they had said he was the most handsome, his dark hair complimented the light hazel colour of his eyes and the dimples on either sides of his cheeks gave him some sort of foreign look, but it just complimented his appearance further.

"They were here little than two seconds ago, and then they were gone." She shrugged whilst she fixed her hair.

"Ah..." The male nodded as he approached her and took all the ropes from her hand after he had collected all the other ropes that were left behind by the other teenagers. "I can take them for you."

"Thank you." Jeanne smiled at him as he had offered to lead the herd for her. There weren't many, only about fifteen, and it was not like they were to trample them or anything.

"The sky's really beautiful." Louis smiled as he glanced up at the many colours the sky beheld.

"I have always enjoyed sunsets..." Jeanne began. "They have always reminded me about how beautiful God can create things."

"It is amazing." He nodded in agreement. "You know," they continued to step over and make their way through the thick tall grass, "I think only God has the power to create something as beautiful as nature. I mean how is it possible that something can achieve such beauty without any divine help?"

"Yes I agree with you." She nodded.

"God," he paused and looked at her with a slight hue of pink dusting his cheeks, "has made you as beautiful as the sky."

"U-I...I-T-Thank you..." Jeanne blushed lightly. "You are handsome yourself..."

"Thank you." His reply was short and hushed. "I-I am guessing that you know by now..."

"Know what?" She tilted her head as she turned to look at him.

"That I fancy you. I mean, the others would have probably told you by now anyways." He shrugged as he held onto the ropes a little tighter.

Jeanne remained quite and did not answer the young man, instead she continued walking and felt the soft warm breeze kiss her face softly. It was possible that the world could simply crash into chaos at that exact moment and she would not care as much for she already loved everything. Of course it was not because Louis had admitted that he had fancied her, but rather because she simply felt so at peace.

"I am sorry if-"

"Thank you, Louis. It is not everyday that you hear people admit that they fancy you. Thank you." She turned to him, a smile evident on her features. Personally, the female was unsure as to why she had thanked the male; you do not thank people that simply like you, right? Or maybe you do?

"U-Uh... you are welcome."

"You know, Louis, you are amazing in many aspects," she began with a deep breath, "you are super sweet, and helpful. You are just amazing, but I wanted to tell you that we cannot have anything; not because I do not like you but because we have to take in to account our families. I am the only daughter and they wish to marry me off to some rich middle-aged man, and as much as I would not like to, I have to because as a daughter that is my duty."

"Yes, I understand that, Jeanne. Sadly, I also have duties because my family and I are moving." He looked up at the sky once more.

"You are moving? Where?" Jeanne was surprised.

"To a village in Alsace, my father has obtained a job there." Louis began.

"When are you..."

"In three weeks. I wanted to tell you that I liked you before I left, and I finally had the guts to do so. It is rather funny, non?"

"What is funny?"

"That everything can be so perfect and you wish you could just disappear but in a second, your entire life could change..." He chuckled sorrowfully.

"But it can take a turn for the better rather than the worse." Jeanne argued.

"Yes, of course. But do you not think that when you are happy, there are certain things that can only bring you down?"

"But what if they make you only happier?"

"They may, but all good things come to an end, non?" He laughed lightly.

"That is very true." Jeanne nodded. "As how this beautiful sunset has come to an end." She slightly pouted when she noticed the sky had turned dark and the stars had finally emerged, showing their loveliness without holding the shyness they usually have during the day.

Louis took a deep breath and held it in for a short while before sighing it out in staccatos as he threw his head back to gaze at the suns that burned millions of millions of miles away from where they stood. "What do you think they are?" He asked.

"The spots in the sky? The stars?" She asked, her head tilting to her right.

"Yes the stars up in the sky." He smiled.

"I think that they are... I actually have no idea. I have never thought of it. All I am sure of is that the stars were created by God." She shrugged.

"I have always thought they represented how many people God has created. Each star is a person and when they die, the star disappears because that means they went to heaven, but if they went to hell, the star falls onto the earth, symbolizing their fall from grace." He scratched his head for he was a little bashful.

Jeanne was in complete and utter awe. She was dumbstruck by his wonderful interpretation of the stars. Her breath was steady but her heartbeat was jumping about the place at the thought of his perception being true. Would she fall from grace? Or would she twinkle away to heaven? She wanted to make some comment on his wisdom, but she could not formulate words at all.

"I probably sound insane... I told my father but he told me to worry less about the stars and more about myself." Louis laughed, but Jeanne could hear some sort of depression within it.

"It does not sound insane, I am simply marvelled by such perception. I-I think that it is so wise and different. Personally I adore the idea, but it does scare me." She mumbled.

Louis opened his mouth to speak until a sheep had baaa-ed making them both laugh. Their giggles filled the night sky and they began to walk back in the direction of their houses after they had put the herd back in the herd enclosure.

"Good night, m'lady." Louis winked as he waved goodbye, for he had walked her to her doorstep.

"Good night, milord." She giggled and instead of waving him goodbye she engulfed him in a big hug. "Thank you. I have not had an outing with a young man, so this being my first was great."

Louis was stunned but either way wrapped his arms around her. "You are welcome." He laughed lightly.

"Alright then, good night." She kissed his cheek and then let go of him. "If you need any help with packing or just anyone to talk to, I will be here."

"Thank you, Jeanne. You know, many people say you are some sort of royal pain in the arse, but I always knew you were not." He laughed.

"Sometimes I can be a pain, but trust me, I really needed the bucket." She laughed.

"I do not blame you the slightest, I personally think that it was worth the bucket."

"Yes, definitely worth the bucket." She nodded.

"Alright, goodbye, see you in the morrow?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I will meet you by the well, oui?" Jeanne began to turn the knob of the door.

"Oui, au revoir." He gave her a nod and watched as she entered her house, then turned to leave.

* * *

Around a week afterwards, Jeanne entered her house and walked towards the kitchen; she had been mending the herd of sheep till late in the night again, also being ditched by her friends in order for her to spend more time with Louis, in which they had fun for they were running around and eating from the grapes in the vineyard by her house.

The house was silent but when she was outside she had seen the candles that were lit within it, they were home.

"Maman, I have arrived..." She entered the kitchen slowly to see her mother cooking and an unfamiliar man sitting opposite from her father at the table.

"Jeannette, my dear, sit, sit. We have been waiting for you." Her mother gave her a smile that seemed to scold her and dragged the young girl over to the table.

"I was mending the herd." She replied. "Only Louis Bellaire and I had to do it, all the others needed to get home early, forgive me for my tardiness."

"Sit, sit." Her mother sat her down next to her father and went back to the food.

"Jeannette dear, this is Édouard Bacot, your betrothed." Her father announced.

Jeanne's blue orbs grew wide and she tried to avert her gaze from the man. She did not wish to speak or to move because she felt that if she did, she would have somehow agreed to the betrothal.

"Maybe you could talk about it?" Her father stood from his seat and called on his wife so they would leave Jeanne alone with the man.

There was a heavy silence between the two, some sort of silence that made her feel queasy and uneasy.

"After we get married, you will come live with me. I only live a couple of miles away, thus you will be able to see your family often. You needn't worry about distance." The man began as he placed his hands on the table.

"Did you ever love someone?" Jeanne lifted her head as she heaved a big sigh.

"Yes, once upon a time."

"What happened for you to leave her?"

"No matter how much you love someone, they will not return those feelings." The man spoke and looked down at the table.

Jeanne could see he was possibly in his late twenties and thus he was still young and not as old as her parents. She did not want to speak out of turn either, and thus she remained quiet, keeping her gaze on the man before her.

"Is there anyone that you have loved that has betrayed you?" The man looked back up at her.

"No... I have not loved anyone intimately and my family has not betrayed me." She thought for a little while, pondering if her family had ever failed her. Of course, in some shape or form they had, but not so brutally.

"Have they not betrayed you now, by not allowing you to marry a man you would want but rather one that benefits the family?" He questioned.

"A daughter's duty is to do what is best for her family, and therefore this marriage is in the best interest of my family and I shall comply."

"So you do not care for your own happiness, but the one of those who raised you?"

"Yes, that is my duty as a daughter."

"Your duty? Oh please, do you realize how idiotic you sound? Marriage is not a duty, clearly for you it is."

"For a young lady that is born into a family of any kind, marriage is a duty, you clearly have not been a young lady and therefore you would not understand the pressures they must under go."

"Excuse me? Are you talking back to me?" The man clenched his hands into fists.

"I am stating a fact, sir, you do not understand a woman and you never will. Your values are not an inch close to a women's and her beliefs are nothing like yours. Do not speak as if women were so free as to choose the one they marry." Jeanne sighed as she looked upon the male's hands and witnessed as his knuckles turned white.

"I may not be a woman, but I know that they are whores. And if you talk in that way, then you must not have your virtue." He retorted.

"Only because I am not naïve, does not mean I am not a virgin. Have you any idea of the mind of a woman? I believe not. If the woman you loved betrayed you, you have absolutely no right to blame every woman on this planet for her wrongs."

"Whore."

Jeanne gulped and stood from the table. "You shan't judge me, for only The Lord can."

"Enough of your meaningless chatter. I detest the way you talk, it makes me want to _hit_ someone."

"By someone you refer to me, correct, _monsiuer_?" She questioned.

"You think to much, if we are to marry, you are not to speak so freely, but rather remain doing your chores as a woman **should**."

"A _woman_ can do what a _man_ can and even more."

"A woman's place is inside the home."

"A woman's place is where she wishes."

"A woman's place is where her husband wishes it to be!"

"Our views are clearly not the same, or even near one another." Jeanne hissed.

"If you are to be my wife, you will heed my words, do you understand?"

"If I am going to be caged in a home as if I were some sort of animal for your amusement, I will not marry you."

"_But if it benefits your family?_" He sarcastically spoke.

"I will not be **degraded** in such a manner." Jeanne was red by now, she was mad and outraged by the man's sarcasm.

"Are you sure about that, _darling_?" He raised a dark eyebrow.

"Yes, I am sure of this. I will not marry you, because I will not be degraded." She sighed loudly and walked out of the kitchen to witness the enraged and disgusted look her father gave her.

His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows scrounged together as his eyes glared her down. He lifted his right hand and brought it behind the left side of his neck before wiping it across the air and hitting her square on the jaw. You could hear the splitting of air before a loud smack was heard, proceeded by a silent squeak of pain.

"You will enter the kitchen and apologize, **do you understand me**, _Jeannette_?" Her father warned as he brought his hand back up.

"Apologize? Pardon me father, but I cannot apologize to a man with no heart." Jeanne muttered under her breath for she was afraid her father would strike her again. Her right cheek burnt, but she held her tears back.

"I will give you **ten** seconds." Her father spat and began the count down.

_"Dix."_

_"Neuf."_

_"Huit."_

_"Sept."_

_"Six."_

_"Cinq."_

_"**Quatre.**"_

_"**Trois.**"**  
**_

_"**Deux.**"_

"Alright father. I understand that it is perfectly correct to degrade a woman. It is good to treat a woman poorly, and it is even better if I am to be that woman. I understand." Jeanne nodded and turned back to the kitchen. She pushed the door open and stepped inside to meet the man once more.

Jeanne's heart felt as if it constricted at the sight of the man, and she gulped loudly. "My father tells me that I should apologize, but I cannot take my words back, for that is not what I believe." She stared the man in the eyes. "And thus, I will not marry you." She held her head high as she pivoted on her heel and exited the kitchen. Her father was yelling at her as she continued out of the house quickly. She did not want to look at her father for a little while because she felt wronged and cheated by someone she cared so much for. How could her father wrong her in such a way? How was it that no one understood?

She walked to the well and sat on the edge silently. She wanted to cry, but she was not going to; her pride would not let her. The night was heavy and there was a thin fog that covered the ground, not allowing for the young lady to see the sleeping flowers. The stars shun and she thought about what Louis had said; what if she would fall? Both literally and figuratively. Fall back into the well and disappear, and fall from Grace only because she spoke back to her parents and would not do as they asked. But wasn't a shooting star beautiful? Was it a last resort to show God that they wished to join Him in heaven rather than fall to the depths of Hell?

The crack of a twig made her fall back to reality, her head snapping toward the sound. From the darkness a young man approached.

"Who goes there?"

"It is I, Louis."

"Louis... Bonsoir." She recognized him as the male drew closer.

"Why are you out here alone? I saw you walking from your house..." The dark haired male asked as he raised an eyebrow to make it disappear within his tresses.

"A falling out with my parents..." She mumbled lightly, she was embarrassed but she was sure he would not see the blush that was spread across her features due to the darkness.

"Oh, do not fret, we all have those." He smiled and walked up to her, and stood right in front of her, less than a foot away.

"Not the way I had it." Jeanne chuckled lightly, but sorrowfully.

"I am sure you will reconstruct the connection."

"I met my 'fiancé'." She spoke quickly.

"Oh... I-I see."

"He was very unpleasant."

"Not everyone is nice; you can't win them all."

"May I ask you something?" She looked him in the eyes.

"Yes, of course, ma belle." He nodded and returned the look.

"Where is the place of a woman?"

"What do you mean?" He tilted his head slightly, which was when he noticed her cheek was slightly scratched and bleeding a tiny bit. "What happened?" He questioned as his eyes grew wide and he raise his hand to examine her cheek before she stopped him.

Her hand took a hold of his before it could touch her cheek, and she smiled. "Nothing." Her shoulders attempted a shrug.

"Who did that?" He demanded to know, but his tone was still gentle, making it sound like more of a quiet question than a demand.

"Where is a woman's place? Where does she belong? What is her role in life?" Jeanne changed the subject, still holding Louis' hand in hers.

"Her role in life?" He would not let her injury slip his mind, but he would answer her question. "A woman's role is to be the best she can be. Motherly, loving, caring, beautiful and strong. Her role is to be great. To be perfect."

"And what is your perfect wife?" She mumbled.

"There is no perfect wife. The only perfect woman that has ever existed was The Virgin Mary, but woman must strive to be like her. My ideal wife is someone strong and great. She is happy at all times but can break down, she is sweet and caring, but strict and demanding. She is scared and afraid, but so trusting and brave. She is naïve but so wise. My ideal wife is one that can do everything a man can. One that, if she so needs to, she can be the one to be the bread winner. Her place is where she wishes it to be." He explained.

"That is an intelligent answer." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Why can you not be my husband?"

Now it was his turn to blush, but he did not forget her wound. "Now tell me, Jeanette, what happened?" He inquired and caressed her cheek.

"I was rude to that man, thus my father punished me..." Her sigh was elongated and somehow chopped.

Louis looked at her and cupped her cheek in his hands and brought her face towards his before landing a gentle kiss upon her lips.

Jeanne did not move, only sat still all the while he had planted the kiss, and even afterwards as well.

"Jeanne, I really like you." He mumbled. "I apologize for kissing you without permission."

"I like you too." She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck whilst she got down from the well.

"Really?" His eyes beamed.

"Why else would I keep talking to you?" She laughed and hugged him. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Yes, of course."

"If your theory is correct, the one about the stars, why is it that shooting stars are loved by all?"

It was silent as he thought about it, the leaves and grass blades whispered about the two teenagers, passing secrets of others and about them.

"They were prideful; thinking that without God they could save themselves, and so they try to outshine God as they fall to their doom." He mumbled.

"Then why is it that they would do that?"

"They would because they are too prideful to understand that God loves them."

Jeanne looked at Louis for a long while before letting him free from her embrace. She turned about and looked down the well. As she pondered about the moon and the stars. "If we are the stars, who is the moon?"

"The moon is no one, the moon is a light that God has made for us to see past the darkness. And if you are to ignore the light and claim that it fails you., the stars will light the way instead."

"What do you think of water?" She asked wanting to hear his wise response.

"Water?" He leaned onto the well to look down at the dark abyss with her, trying to understand what she was thinking.

"Yes, do have a theory for the water as well?" She mumbled down the well.

"A theory for water? I do not think so..."

"Are you certain? Not even a theory for anything else?"

"Do you like my theories?" He asked in a soft tone.

"Yes, I very much like them." She nodded.

"Alright then, I will have a theory for why you are so beautiful." He smiled. "I believe that; since you are ever so nice, you must become prettier every night, that is because God decides that only nice people can be beautiful people."

Jeanne laughed a bit and smiled brightly. "If that were true, I would be the ugliest girl in the village."

He cocked his head to his right and looked at her in the eyes. "No, you are beautiful and nice. You do a lot for your family, even if they do not return the favour. On top of that, you are good to everyone around you, unless you are betting with someone on something." His shoulders lifted in a shrug.

The young female glanced at him and the back down the well. She laughed a little and threw some pebbles, that she had found beside her, down the well. The silenced drowned them in a good and calming way, for she did not want to speak and she knew he was way beyond embarrassed to say another word without her approval.

Jeanne stood straight and stretched. "Is that also why you are so handsome and every girl in this village thinks that you are _'to die for'_?"

"I would not know that." Louis laughed back.

"Merci, Merci pour tout le que tu m'as dit." she smiled.

"De rien."

* * *

It had been three days after their talk that he had begun packing for his leave, he had found out that his family was to leave in a week's time. She had visited him often and gone to help him pack, during the following week. They had grown to be good friends, but were still not ready for a relationship, which was upsetting because Jeanne knew she would possibly never see him again for he was to leave on the morning of Sunday, only two days from then.

"What do you think happens to people's bodies when they die?" She asked.

"Their souls go to Heaven, Purgatory or Hell, while their bodies fall apart over a long period of time..." He replied as he drank some water.

"How do people fall in love?"

"Someone who is beautiful in mind, body and soul comes along and a person cannot take their perfection. But after a while, they notice that the person is not perfect at all; they make mistakes and mess up, they get angry and upset, but even when they see them in such states, they still think that the person is beautiful, that every awkward moment, every flaw they have only makes them more unique. You know you are in love when you can let go of the person you love with a smile." He explained.

"Do you love me?"

"Do _you _love _me?_" He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I am not sure yet." She giggled.

"Would you miss me when I leave?"

"Of course! I would miss you so much because you are simply great!" She nodded.

"Do you want to come with me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"But my family..." The issue with her father had been resolved, and her father had told her that it was his entire fault that she felt betrayed. He did wish for her to be happy but he had some strict policies to her freedom as well, in which she had agreed.

"I spoke with your father, and he agreed and approved for you to come along with me, so that we could get married." He blushed deeply.

Jeanne smiled and kissed his cheek. "It would be an honour to marry you. But please do hear me out; I care much for you and I wish for you to do the same for me. There is just so many things that keep me here, beginning with my family."

"I can bring you whenever you feel homesick. I promise to keep you happy for all the days of my life, Jeanne." He held her hands in his and stared into her blue orbs.

"I know that you can make me happy, for you already have." She smiled. "But I feel that I cannot leave this village..."

"Think about it, Jeanne, I will always be waiting for your answer."

* * *

"Jeanne..." Isabel spoke as the carriage bumped from side to side, causing the ladies an oncoming head ache.

"Yes?" Jeanne looked up.

"I was wondering if you had ever loved someone..." The Spaniard muttered.

"I am not exactly sure..."

"You are not? Then have you ever had feelings for someone?" The brunette looked at the other.

"Once, but that ended tragically and I would like to think that falling in love is nothing special." The blonde sighed loudly.

"Is it possible for you to explain to me how it ended?" Isabel really wished to know despite the boundary she was trespassing with the young female.

"The day that the Burgundians attacked, I was running up the hill and a soldier had run after me. Somehow, I had tripped over a branch and the man had approached me..." Jeanne looked off into space as she remembered. "A-and... and right when the man had drawn his sword, a pitch fork had stabbed through him. It took me a while to process what had occurred, but when I did, the man had dropped to his knees and blood sprung from his mouth. Behind him stood Louis; I was stunned to see him for I thought he had left that morning to Alsace, but it had not been so..." [1]

Isabel remained silent as the younger of the two explained the tragedy she had witnessed.

"I had seen his face as he had realized that he had killed a man with such contraption. His eyes began to tear up and his jaw had dropped. His eyes were wide with regret and fear, and maybe anger for he knew what would have happened if he did not take the man's life. He stared at me, but then tuned out of his surroundings and it seemed as if he were contemplating death for a long while. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he mumbled my name incoherently. Maybe it had been because he was afraid, or because he was enraged. He was careful not to step on the man's body as he had made his way towards me to take my hand and help me to my feet. I watched him with confusion and fear as well because I was afraid I would die and he would die as well. His face grew hard and he took my hand.

_Jeannette, get up,_ he said with such a monotone voice, but I shook my head because I saw that he had left his soul behind. _Jeannette, please, please get up._ He had practically begged and I stood.

We ran up the hill and as we did so he was mumbling the Pater Noster wishing that he would be forgiven for his sin. And in the middle of the Pater Noster as he mumbled the words so incoherently; _Pater noster qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua, sicut in coelo et in terra. _He grunted loudly and fell to his knees, bringing me down with him, and then he finished _Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem sed libera nos a malo._ He was Grunting by then, his voice fading. _**Amen.**_ I joined him then, which was when I had noticed what had occurred; two arrows had struck him down, they dug into his back and he tried his best not to cry in pain, but only grunt. He ordered me to take them out, and I had a hard time doing so because I did not want to hurt him; but when I did he smiled slightly up at me and chuckled. _Life is cruel..._ He had whispered. _Will I fall from grace?_ I had told him that he would not but he had insisted that he possibly would for killing a man, although he had regretted it, but a boy like him could not possibly go to Hell...

I held him in my arms for a long while and I was cradling him because we both knew that he would not make it. He had told me to smile but I refused because how could I smile when he was dying in my arms? How could I possibly smile when someone I cared so much for was slipping away? He was right; Life is really cruel, sadly I learnt that the hard way; by loosing everything... Finally I had smiled through my tears to grant him his last wish and he smiled up at me and thanked me before giving me the last breath he ever took." Jeanne was crying and she tried to wipe her tears away.

"I-I-I am so sorry, J-Jeanne, I did not mean t-to-"

"Do not fret, you were to find out sooner or later..." Jeanne shrugged as she sniffed and finished wiping her tears from her eyes. "Plus, It was not you who made him die..."

Isabel was unsure of what she heard in Jeanne's voice but it made her feel so much empathy towards the younger female. They were silent until they had stopped by an inn to rest for the night, and the Spaniard had begun to regret asking the question. Jeanne was already anxious about the meeting with the Dauphin, and now Isabel got her thinking on Louis.

* * *

"Isabel of Castilla y León, Daughter of Juan II of Castilla y León and Maria of Aragon; Infanta of Spain." She was announced in court as she stepped to the throne room to meet the Dauphin of France; Charles. [2]

She bowed before him and when she was told to, she stood and smiled at him. "My Dauphin, how do you find yourself?" She questioned after kissing his hand.

"Very well, my Infanta, merci. How do you find yourself?" He smiled at her in return and pulled her into a hug. "It has been a while, my dear friend."

"Yes, it has been too long." Isabel gave him a grateful smile as they pulled away from one another. "I have been better, though."

"What troubles you my dear?" He questioned.

"A little falling out with my Fiancé, but that should be resolved."

"I was about to ask you of Francis... But as always, he never does stick to one lady, now does he?" Charles raised an eyebrow and sat back down on his throne and ordered a seat for the Infanta.

Isabel smiled back and nodded lightly.

"Did the château shrink while I was on my leave?" Isabel joked, seeing as how she had grown more familiar with Chinon. The throne room seemed to be getting smaller and smaller every time she had left for Spain.

Charles laughed and turned to her. "Now what brings you here, darling?" He questioned as the beautiful seat was brought for her.

"There is a young lady that I would like for you to meet." The Spaniard began.

"Young lady? Please, I have a wife."

"Not like that, my Dauphin; she is exceptional. A real beauty."

"A beauty? Why would I need another one, I already have plenty around court." He chuckled.

"Her name is Jeannette." She continued.

"Jeannette? Of what?"

"She and I believe that she can do so much for our Country; France."

"By that you mean carry a child? Marie and I have that covered."

"No," Isabel sighed, "she means to save France from the English."

"Now how on earth would this young Lady achieve that, exactly?" He glared at the Infanta. "What land does she own? What money does she posses? What army can she contribute?"

"She can offer everything she has."

"Follow me to the council room." The Dauphin hissed and stood from his thrown, making everyone hurry to their feet and see him off.

Isabel walked with Charles down the long hallways of the Château of Chinon and she had noted that they had changed almost everything; the French for you. She noticed the French flags coming from the ceiling and all the decorations that made the castle that much more exciting.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked as they had reached the council room.

"The prophecy." Isabel heaved.

"A woman will ruin France and a Virgin shall save it?"

"Yes. Jeanette is a peasant; she has had a vision where Archangel Michael appears to her and tells her that her duty is to save all of France from the English."

"How are you to believe that? Do you know how many people have come to me claiming that they are the Virgin of the prophecy?"

"I understand, but she is different."

"Even if I wish to believe it, I cannot. If God so wishes to save France, only then would France be saved."

"But if God brings you a saviour; will you listen?" Isabel nearly hissed, but refrained knowing very well that he was the Dauphin and could have her shunned in French court.

"It is a hard thing to do, and I see where you are going with this, Isabel; I will see her, but that will be all." He sighed loudly and rubbed his temples.

"Thank you, my Dauphin." Isabel smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. "I promise you that she will be worth every second of your time."

"I hope so." The Dauphin nodded and dismissed her from the council room.

Meanwhile, Jeanne sat on the bed, staring at the room around her, swinging her legs as she awaited Isabel. She sat patiently and thought of how she was going to speak with the Dauphin. How would she bow? What if she said the wrong thing? What would happen if she curtsied the wrong way? Or spoke with her country girl accent? Truly, Jeanne was nervous and afraid that the Dauphin would not accept her, but she knew that she needed to wait and see what would happen.

As she waited for Isabel, she had heard a pair of footsteps walking closer and closer and so she sat up straight and stood quickly so that she would greet Isabel.

"Oh yes, she and I got along from the very beginning, although she was quiet, we had made it past awkward smiles and gaps in conversations." Jeanne heard Isabel's voice as said lady entered the room followed by a man.

"Oh, Jeanne, here you are." Isabel smiled and so did the man at the sight of Jeanne.

"Isabel." Jeanne nodded at the Spaniard.

"Remember me, ma belle?" The dark haired man winked at her.

"D'Alençon." She nodded at the man.

"How are you doing? Last I saw you, you were very weak and still learning to write in French." He walked towards her slowly, with a sweet smile lighting his features.

"Ah, yes, I am doing so much better, merci pour ton préoccupation." Jeanne smiled at him.

"They tell me that you are heaven sent." He took a hold of her hand.

Jeanne's blue orbs grew, expanding the ocean within them, and she looked down with an evident blush on her features. "W-who told you that lie, my duke?"

"A very trusty ally of mine." He winked. "And I believe her to be telling the truth. Are you hiding your divinity from me, my darling?"

Jeanne blushed even deeper and she blinked a couple of times. "W-who?" She almost choked on the air she was breathing in.

"My dear friend, Isabel." He then turned to her and smiled.

"Anyways, Jeanne, I have important news to announce to you." Isabel stepped forward and declared to the young lady.

"Yes?" Jeanne immediately looked over at Isabel, all her attention drawn to the Spaniard.

"The Dauphin has decided..."

"Mhmm?" Jeanne bit the inside of her lip as she awaited the answer.

"That he would..."

She was growing anxious by the second, really wanting to hear a calming answer.

"See you!" Isabel smiled brightly and clapped her hands together as she hurried towards Jeanne.

Jeanne breathed in deeply and smiled back ever so brightly. "Really?" She questioned, still not believing it.

"I have convinced him!" Isabel pulled the younger lady into a tight hug. "It was a bit hard, but I convinced him!"

"Thank you! Thank you, Isabel!"

"Please, it was all for you and the good of France." Isabel let her go and held her by the arms.

"Thank you, now I only need to prove myself to him, and then he will be able to trust in me." Jeanne was overjoyed and she wished to jump about the room and scream into a pillow, but she did not because she was hoping that Jean d'Alençon would not look at her with disgust.

"Jeanne, if you would not mind, I want to understand how you will save France." Jean smiled and sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace that stood in the far right corner of the room.

Jeanne gave Isabel a small look and they interchanged gestures until Isabel had agreed that the first could tell him.

"I saw a vision. An angel came to me claiming I would save France from the English." She mumbled lightly and looked down at her feet to avert the possible 'you-are-insane' gesture.

"An angel?"

"Archangel Michael to be exact." Isabel sat down next to him.

"H-he appeared to you? Oh dear, t-that is fantastic!" The male's eyes grew by the second and he sighed loudly for it was unbelievable. "W-what did he say?"

"That I would deliver France to victory and that I was to take the Dauphin to Reims for him to be crowned." Jeanne mumbled.

"You are to save France?"

"Y-yes."

"Finally!" He sighed with relief. "I have heard rumours about the prophecy, and I guess that... it is about to be fulfilled." The duke smiled at the young lady. "Whatever you may need, I promise; I promise to aid you as best as I possibly can, my dear." He had always had a good feeling about Jeanne, and when Isabel had explained to him what she had experienced, he had wished to know what Jeanne had to say about it; now that he knew, he was glad that someone like her would want to save France. How many politicians, how many soldiers and captains had simply given up on this country? But a girl who's life was abolished due to the wretched war was so determined to win and liberate France from the misery it had endured for over 90 years now. It was _insane_, revolutionary even. A woman? A young peasant girl? Who would not defy her? Everyone would be against her, yet that was the beauty of it. A woman could be just as powerful and strong as a man.

Jeanne smiled at him so gratefully. "Thank you, mon duc, thank you so much. I am glad that I have your support in what I will achieve."

"Anything for you, my dear." He returned her smile and stood from the chair, only to wrap her in a tight hug. "Thank you for deciding to save our beautiful France; It is an honour to meet someone as strong as yourself."

Jeanne blushed deeply after he kissed her cheek and let her go. She nodded lightly and looked down. "I am only doing what I must."

"Then you are the angel we have been awaiting."

* * *

"You think that _you_ can have the Dauphin crowned in _Reims?_" A plump man hissed at her.

"My Lord wishes it so, therefore I must carry out his will." Jeanne nodded after she had bowed.

"And who is your _lord_?" A man in a military uniform muttered as he lay back in his seat and looked at her.

"My God."

"In Reims!" The plump man held onto what he believed was so ridiculous it had to be a joke. His laugh filled the room and irritated Jeanne to the bone, she wanted to take the pastry from his chubby hands and squish it for he was ridiculing her.

"I was told I was to meet the Dauphin." She kept her composure and did not dare grit her teeth or raise her voice the slightest.

"We are the Dauphin's council, we will suffice, non? Or is the lady so keen to meet the Dauphin because she is actually in love with him or wishes to bewitch him?" Monsieur Badeaux, the fat man, grunted.

"The Dauphin has asked of us to evaluate you, young lady, and we are here to do so." Bishop Lacerte decided to speak.

"With utmost respect, my Bishop and lords, I came to be treated like a human. I did not come to be ridiculed by Noblemen." She spoke as she solely looked upon the Bishop, but spoke of the nobleman next to him.

"Either way, we are to question you, and that is what we shall do." The General spoke again.

Jeanne remained quiet as the man looked upon her intently. She watched as they examined her face and then her posture. "I think that she seems to stand a little weirdly." Badeaux smirked.

"Jeanne, where do you come from?" General Malboeuf asked, crossing his arms.

"Lorraine."

"Why are you here?"

"To deliver France from the English."

"You say that God has told you to do so, how so?"

"Archangel Michael had come to me in a vision -a dream really -and he told me that I was to save France if I so accepted."

"Archangel Michael?" Lacerte raised a dark eyebrow.

"Was it a dream or a vision? Make up your little mind, peasant." Badeaux snapped.

"A dream, later on he came in a vision." She replied and turned to the Bishop. "Yes, Archangel Michael."

The men were silent and only stared at her, expecting her to continue speaking.

"I have decided to help France because my village was purged to the ground by Burgudians and I would not like for anyone else to experience what I have. My family was murdered, my friends were slaughtered, my village was destroyed; I can never wish this upon even the cruellest of enemies. Not even the men that had done that to me."

"Your village?" Malboeuf blinked.

"Yes, Domremy." Jeanne nodded lightly, her hair falling around her face.

"We will speak with the Dauphin, he will decide if you shall remain or if you are to leave court." He stood from his seat. "You are dismissed."

Jeanne did not speak, but she bowed before the men and left the room. She was not surprised but still very upset over the matter. She let out a loud sigh and walked down the hall towards the room she was sharing with Isabel.

"Jeanne! What did he say? Did he accept?" Isabel ran to her, her dress filing perfectly behind her.

"I did not see him. I met with his council instead." Jeanne practically hissed as she entered the room. "Why will he not see me? I come in God's name! Why on earth will he not meet with me?" She was way beyond upset, she was outraged.

"Honestly?"

"It was evident that a lord hated me with a burning passion, as if I were English or a traitor."

"The plump one? Badeaux?"

"Oui, C'est lui." The young lady huffed and sat on the bed.

"Oh, don't worry, he hates everyone; He's only in the council for he has the money to support our armies. Rich men always get a spot in the council."

"It is truly an understatement; he detests me. That man ridiculed me and I will not have any of it."

"If you try anything, say _au revoir_ to everything you wanted to achieve." The Spaniard mumbled and sat back on the seat she was currently sitting upon.

"If I do anything, it is as if I am rude, and if I don't it is as if I am avoiding my duties; I can never win!"

"You still have yet to be announced at court, do everything you can until then, and from then on you may show everyone that you can do anything that is asked of you by God. Until then, just try your best to impress the Dauphin and show him that you can crown him."

"Yes, of course."

* * *

**Translations**

**Merci pour tout le que tu me dites -** Thank you for everything you have said to me.

**Oui, C'est lui -** Yes it is him.

**Au revoir - **Good bye.

[1]- Hi I am the editor of this story, and MY sister "the writer", has BETRAYED my life! DO carry on! :)

[2]- I wanted this more AU, and I am aware that Spain was not unified in that period of time, but as for the purpose of the story Spain will have been already united as a country.

**Reminder**\- I wanted to inform you all that this is not what actually happened in real life and how Joan met the Dauphin. Remember this is highly AU, but the main concept is that Joan delivered some parts of France from the English and she did have divine visions telling her to carry out God's Will.

_The story continues _...

* * *

"Is everyone in court seeing angels that I cannot? Either I am blind or everyone has gone insane. And I have a feeling it is the latter." He turned to face Francis within an indifferent look on his facial features.

* * *

"Are you telling me that a peasant is going to lead the army of France?" Caroline hissed as she glared at Jeanne.

"Maybe you should worry less about those around you and more about yourself." Morgana spat.

* * *

**~Author's Note~**

**Hey everyone, I would just like to say thank you for reading this chapter. Congratulations you have read 40,000 words thus far by reading this story. I apologize if there are any mistakes. I would also like for you to review on what you liked, what you don't like, what you would like to happen, who you ship, who you don't ship. Just to say simply everything! Favorites and reviews give me a lot of motivation and it makes me understand that you actually like the story. **

**In other news, who are you guys cheering for in the World Cup! :) Also I'll be updating every other week from now on. Enjoy and thank you for reading! 3**

**Sincerely,**

**~Ms. AtomicBomb**


	5. The Opportunity Has Arrived

**~Author's Note~**

**Hello my dear readers,**

**I regret to inform you that I have thought about discontinuing this story, and every story in that matter. Forgive me but I had been going through a rough time in which I had decided to stop writing altogether. Forgive me for the late update and just know that I am alright now, my sister and a dear friend of mine have encouraged me to keep writing, and I will. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had trouble writing it, but hopefully it satisfies your needs? Thank you for reading up to now, I really appreciate it.**

**Sincerely,**

**~Ms. Atomic Bomb**

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Opportunity Has Arrived**

It was a gloomy day, Isabel had noticed that it had been meaning to rain for a couple of days now, but there was no rain that fell, not even two drops; and it was known that it was to rain sooner or later. The clouds were a dark gray and no sunlight would beam through them; it was honestly a little scary. It seemed as if something bad was to happen that day, but on the contrary, a rather amazing thing had happened.

Everyone was startled when a certain blond male entered the throne room. All heads had turned towards him as he bowed before the Dauphin and quickly stood. Little than ten minuets before said act, it had begun to rain and thus he was soaking wet. His hair dripping in water and his clothes stuck to his body. It was surprising that he would enter court in such attire, but the Dauphin did not complain for he knew the man a little too well.

"My cousin, I must speak with you urgently." Francis announced, blinking his eyes.

"Maybe you should change, and then we will speak." The Dauphin insisted.

"This is a rather urgent matter, please, my Dauphin."

Charles sighed and lifted his hand up in the air, signalling everyone to leave right away.

Everyone obeyed and stood immediately, walking past Francis and eying him a couple of times. Francis did not mind until a certain female shot him a smile his way. Francis kept his gaze on the Dauphin and ignored Caroline.

"You are soaking to the bone and you wish to talk to me?" Charles lifted an eyebrow once everyone had left the room. "You must be insane."

"Once Isabel had left, I was upset but I managed to at least forgive her."

"Well, if you came to talk about your issues with your Fiancee, I am not the slightest bit interested."

"No, I came to tell you that Jeanne has come to help you, rather than offend what you stand for, my cousin." Francis stated.

"Oh, so now it is about the peasant girl, Francis. What do you wish to say?" The Dauphin hissed.

"She is sent by the Lord."

"Oh please, Francis; there is a war in our country, do you really believe that We care the slightest if she is or if she is not. You of all people should know that We do not have time for this nonsense." He stood form his seat and walked towards the exit of the throne room.

"Wait, Sire! I-I met a man- an angle- Archangel." Francis announced before the man left.

"Is everyone in court seeing angels that I cannot? Either I am blind or everyone has gone insane. And I have a feeling it is the latter." He turned to face Francis with an indifferent look on his facial features.

"Listen to what I have to say, I did not come all the way here to not be heard. If you do not help me, I shall help myself." He warned.

"Fine, entertain me. This better be worth it." The Dauphin was outraged by the younger male's actions but he did not show his discontent just yet, he wanted to know what had made Francis so absurd in the first place.

Francis took a deep breath and watched as the Dauphin made his way back to sit on the Throne and awaited the male's story to slip from his lips. At first Francis did not speak, instead he remembered what had exactly happened once Isabel had left the manor.

"I was sitting in the council room whilst reading over some documents, and...," he had paused for a short while, "and a soldier had told me that a man was asking to see me."

Francis had gone back to that day, nearly two weeks ago. He recalled that the day had been sunny and cheerful. The sun beamed outside and the birds were chirping every now and then.

_"My lord, an elderly male wishes to meet with you." The guard announced as Francis lifted his head from the war documents that he was proof reading._

_"A man? Do you have any idea as to why he wishes to see me?" Francis sighed as he cracked his hands and stretched._

_"He wishes to ask you a very important question. That was all he disclosed."_

_"Have you any idea who he is?"_

_"No sir, he wears tattered clothing and he is covered in filth from head to toe, sir."_

_"Alright, I will see him." Francis nodded and stood from his seat. He was getting tired of people going in and out of his house. Breaking off the engagement had made him, not only upset but, very exhausted of his duties. He hated the way that he had no one to confide in, save for Charlotte._

_The Frenchman walked out of the room and slowly and calmly made his way down the stairs to meet the man at the foyer of the house. "Hello, what brings you to my manor?" Francis asked in a loud and somewhat threatening tone._

_"I-I-I am s-s-so sorry to come here u-uninvited, but... I have not eaten anything in several days, and I would like to ask if you could possibly give me an apple or something small that I will be able to nibble on, sir." The old man looked up at Francis with a sympathetic face._

_"How long has it been since you last ate?" Francis asked as he approached the man._

_"Possibly a week, sir." The man bowed his head before Francis._

_"A week? Oh dear Lord, you must be starving!" Francis felt pity for the man. "Prepare a meal for the elderly man!" He announced and everyone hurried to the Kitchen to attend the man and obey their master's wishes._

_"Thank you, sir, Thank you." The man began to tear up. "Your generosity will forever be in my mind, sir, and God will repay you."_

_"There is no need to thank me. Please, follow me." Francis led the poor man to the dinning hall and helped him to a seat, then sat next to him. "Are you alright? Are you possibly hurt anywhere?"_

_"Oh no, I am fine. I am simply hungry." The old man mumbled. The male was weak looking, his body shook and his face was long._

_"Why is it that you are so weak?" Francis asked._

_"My village was purged... I have been wondering the fields for a long while, I have been eating berries and things of the sort. Small foods that I can nibble on for days to come. But that still is not enough for an old man like myself. I am getting too weak and I cannot keep eating small things. I am blessed to even be alive at this point."_

_"Your village was purged?"_

_"Yes. Domremy."_

_"The Burgundians were the ones to purge it to the floor, as I have come to understand, correct?"_

_"The Burgundians and a troop of Englishmen. They were ruthless, and quite merciless too."_

_"I can only imagine..." Francis mumbled as the food was brought into the dinning room for the elderly Frenchman. "Do you have a place to stay?"_

_"God provides." The old man smiled._

_"If God so provides, why does he not provide food for you?" Francis asked in a somewhat offending tone, that it took the man by surprise._

_"He does, sir." The man's brows were knitted together in disbelief that Francis would even dare ask such a question._

_"How so?"_

_"God has brought me to thee, and thou has fed me. Therefore God has provided food."_

_Francis thought about his statement for a little while. How was that so? It made no sense._

_"God has told me that you would give me food; Ultimately God has provided food, sir. If you would not give me food, God would not have brought me to you."_

_The man was right, at least Francis believed so. He was true to his words because it was so. God would not have brought him if Francis would not have fed him._

_The man ate and thanked Francis once again before he left. His words had made Francis think a lot about the current subject; Jeanne was not the only one to survive._

_The following day, Francis did not expect the man to return, but he did; making the Frenchman a little surprised that he would return for more food. The man returned looking much more alive than he had on the first day; almost as if he had become younger. He was not holding anything against the elderly male, but he was truly concerned. Francis had let him eat an entire meal this time around, even going as far as to offer him food for the rest of the day. The man had denied such kindness, and thanked him again for the food of the second day._

_On the third day, the man did not come like he had done so before, of which somewhat had upset Francis. The Frenchman awaited the male for the entire day, hoping he would come around to eat something once more. But as the day had progressed, he had lost hope that the male would return. It was late evening when a knock was heard, making Francis run to the big doors and open them himself._

_A young male looked at Francis. He wore the dirty clothes that the elderly man had worn, but he was not the man; or possibly he was but it was not possible that the elder male would become younger as the days passed. Not even three meals could do so much._

_"Sir, I came to thank you for the food one last time." The young man spoke._

_Francis was surprised and a bit taken aback by the comment. He looked at the young male before him; he did not recognize him._

_"I visited you yesterday, and the day before that; you offered me food, like the Lord had said."_

_"Pardonnez-moi?" A blond eyebrow rose as Francis tilted his head to his right._

_"My name is Michael. I came to you last as an elderly man, but I come to you now as someone different. I came as a begging man, now I come to ask for your assistance. God has bestowed upon Jeanne d'Arc the duty of liberating France from the English hold; and you are to help her, sir." The male spoke._

_Francis sighed and kept silent; what? This made absolutely no sense at all._

_"You may not believe me, but trust me when I tell you that Jeanne is France's salvation. It will be her doing that will liberate France, if she so wishes to follow God's Will. Francis, help her; aid her in her journeys and show her that you are there for her, because she needs your support." _

_"What ever do you mean?"_

_"With your help, she will be able to accomplish more than what God wishes. Help her and you will not regret it." The male then disappeared before Francis could reply or even formulate a response. The weird thing was that the male did not physically leave, instead he only seemed to vaporize into thin air, leaving behind empty space and a very confused Frenchman._

"So you are telling me that a man came to you?" The dauphin raised an eyebrow as he yawned.

"Yes, yes a man did." Francis nodded.

"Francis, you are being ridiculous, are you aware of what you are saying?"

"Sire, the man was Michael, Archangel Michael."

"Francis, stop before you embarrass yourself any further." Charles sighed and made his way to the door once again.

"Sire!" Francis called but the other male did not acknowledge the fact. "Charles! Are you so blind to not see when The Lord is trying to aid you? France is going to be yours! If you do not do it for God, do it for your people! France needs this hope! We need this chance to finally save our country from the English. This is our time to drive the English away. Our chance to have you crowned absolute King of France!"

"I will give her a chance; but if she fails, I will not have any of it again. Is that understood, Francis?" The Dauphin hated when they used God or France against him because he felt guilty.

"Thank you, Charles, thank you. I promise you that she will not fail you." The blue eyed male smiled as he sighed in relief.

"I will not hesitate to get rid of her if she makes even the smallest of mistakes. France cannot afford failure, especially from a peasant woman." The male looked back at Francis and then proceeded to leave.

"She will not fail you, Charles!" Francis announced before the other could exit the throne room.

"I only hope that she will not."

Francis watched as the Dauphin left, and once the male exited through the doorway, he was relieved. A wave of calmness washed over him and his heart began to beat fast. _Yes!_ He yelled in his head as he clenched his fists in excitement. Now he only needed to apologize to both Isabel and Jeanne.

His riding boots clacked against the stone floors of the castle hallways. There was just one problem; he was soaking wet. Stopping dead on his tracks, Francis huffed and rubbed his face with his hands. If he did not change out of his clothes, he would most likely catch a cold. It was best if he did that before greeting the ladies.

He changed the direction of his course and hurried to the chambers he always obtained when staying within the castle walls. It was on the opposite side of the castle from Isabel's, which was a huge hassle because he would come across the Ladies-in-waiting of the queen, and that was always annoying.

Once he had entered his room he had left out a huge sigh of relief, thank The Lord that he did not come across _her_. His belongings were already placed neatly in his chambers and he only needed to undress and quickly change into a new outfit, preferably one that was not soaked by the heavy rain that continued to pour outside of the castle. Swiftly slipping into his pants and tying up his shirt, he began to make his way out.

Careful not to alarm anyone as he exited his room; he bumped into a certain young lady, causing him to stumble back and loosing his footing as the door had opened behind him. Feeling the hard contact that his butt had made with the ground, he groaned in annoyance.

"Are you alright, Francis?" The girl peered unto him from above, blinking her eyes a couple of times.

"Oui, I am perfectly fine." He clicked his tongue and discreetly rolled his eyes as he stood from the floor.

Brown eyes stared blue orbs down and Francis could feel a chill run down his spine like a rabbit running away from it's predator. A small smile formed on her red lips and she took in a deep breath. "Hello." Was all she said and Francis was somewhat confused.

"Hello, Caroline." He nodded his head as if to acknowledge her, then proceeded to leave the room.

"Francis," she stopped him from leaving, "I was wondering if you would possibly like to go out for a picnic later, because... well..."

"It is very kind of you, Caroline, but I fear that I cannot for I have lots to do nowadays." Francis explained and then began to walk for he knew she would follow him.

"But maybe we could squeeze it in? Possibly tomorrow before dinner?"

"It seems as if the rain is not to stop any time time soon and maybe it will still be raining by that time."

"Then when it clears up." She was walking beside him and Francis wondered when she would leave him.

"Caroline, I-" He had stopped dead short in the castle's main hallway as he caught sight of Isabel.

Caroline drifted her gaze from Francis to the general direction she noticed he was staring at. Isabel spoke with Morgana by the window. They were chattering for a while until Morgana had pointed out that they had onlookers.

Isabel turned back and blinked a couple of times as she noticed that Francis remained still. She let out a small chuckle and excused herself from Morgana to greet the male.

Francis' eyes sparked and he hurried towards her then embraced her tightly. "I am so sorry, Isabel." He mumbled as she giggled and hugged him back.

"Are you positive?" She teased.

"Oui, je suis désolé pour mes mots." He breathed in and held her tighter. "I did not mean what I had said; I was blinded by rage and I felt betrayed..."

Isabel smiled and apologized as well, she had made him upset and she did not want to do so again. "It is not as if I almost died." She joked.

"You really do hate me, do you not?" Francis smiled and let go of her hesitantly.

"Did you realize that I was right?"

"You were right. I apologize for doubting you, so please forgive me. In addition, I have spoken to the Dauphin about Jeanne." He had forgotten about Caroline, who stood still and quite annoyed that the male had left her.

"What has he said?" Isabel looked upon the male.

"That he would give her a chance. I do not know what he is possibly thinking, but this is either going to make her or break her. I have faith in her, but the Dauphin can be resilient and maybe ignore her." Francis rolled his blue orbs and huffed loudly.

"But is he to see her?"

"He agreed, but I do not know when or where he is to meet with her." He sighed loudly.

"We should tell her." Isabel nodded as she began leading the Frenchman to her chambers, where Jeanne and D'Alençon were speaking about past experiences.

"So, you never had a romantic relationship?" D'Alençon mumbled.

"Not exactly." Jeanne shook her head.

"But you are so beautiful, you must be lying to me." He furrowed his brows.

"I was close to a relationship once, but nothing happened." She shrugged, not wanting to remember how it had ended.

"Oh, alright, but I still do not believe you; you are too beautiful to not have had a romantic relationship."

Jeanne tried to hide her blush as she averted her gaze from the male. The room seemed like a better place to wander her eyes about. The room was big and so was the couch, which was where she slept every other day for Isabel did not want her to sleep on the couch every day. They shared everything, even the dresses for they were practically the same size, except for bust; Isabel's was bigger. Jeanne was wondering where the Spaniard had gone but did not question it, instead she paid attention to d'Alençon's words.

"Do you know how to wield a sword, my dear?" He asked.

"I have never held a sword." Jeanne was embarrassed once she had spoken.

"Never? Well, then I must teach you, my darling. You must learn before leading an army, correct?"

"Thank you." She was grateful that he had not made fun of her but offered to help her instead.

"I can also teach you the ways of the lance and how to ride a horse, that is, if you would like." He grinned.

"I need as many skills as I can learn." She smiled back at him, the fact that he was naming all the skills that made a soldier made her smile.

They were discussing when she would commence her lessons, when suddenly, the door had opened. The two young adults snapped their heads towards the door in order to observe who was to enter the room. Jeanne was hoping that it would be the Spaniard with some good news. One that would make her glad that she was actually in the palace, because if the Dauphin was going to turn her down, why was she even bothering? She would only go to the Military official and was bound to join the army.

Isabel entered the room and smiled at Jeanne and D'Alençon. "I am glad to tell you that you are going to be happy to see your visitor."

Jeanne stood from the couch as her eyes grew in size. "Has the Dauphin finally come to greet me?" Jeanne was overjoyed.

Isabel dropped her smile and looked down. "No," she sighed, "but he bares good news."

Jeanne blinked and tilted her head to her right. But once Francis entered the room, her eyes lit up. She watched him enter and her mouth slightly dropped.

"Sweetheart, I am so glad to see you again." Francis smiled and hurried to enrapture her in a hug.

The young lady was stunned but hugged him back. "Are you on God's side now?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I have actually come to tell you that I have convinced my cousin to meet you. I somewhat forced him, but he will like you, I promise."

"Are you positive? Will he really see me, or will he have me ridiculed as I have already been by his officials?"

"I will be present to ensure that you will not go through that, yet I cannot always speak out of turn. I may be his cousin but he is still my future King."

"Thank you, Francis. I am glad that he finally wants to see me. Hopefully he will accept me, but I fear he will have little faith in me."

Jeanne found it unfair that the Dauphin had not given her a single chance. She was a very impatient young lady, but she knew she should let everything run it's course. Everything comes with time, and God had already promised her so much, but she was impatient because the Dauphin was being stubborn and quite rude, to be frank. She understood where he was coming from and knew how he could be feeling. It was scary to think that a young lady would come out of the pure abyss and claim to save France. It was revolutionary and way too insane for the era.

"You can win him over with only your courage. Do not fret." Francis smiled.

"I fear he will not accept me. I have not even prepared my thoughts..."

"God will give you everything you need on the day that you two are to speak."

"I know that He will. I am simply nervous..." She huffed.

* * *

It had been two days since Francis' arrival and the Dauphin had still not called her to meet him. She was growing much more impatient by the second. As of now, all she could do was pace around the room anxiously awaiting his summon. It was driving her nuts and she could not keep anticipating his call for her. She could barely sleep or eat. Although it had only been two days since Francis convinced him, she had been waiting two weeks before that. Her eyes would sparkle every time that a person entered the room, but then she would not hear a single word from their lips and she would sit back down, hoping that someone who held good news would visit her. It was right as she started to fall asleep on the couch, when the door opened. She did not care anymore and tried to continue her drift into sleep, but the male shook her lightly. She slowly opened her eyes and was face to face with the handsome male.

"Wake up, Jeanne, wake up." There was a wide grin on the male's lips.

"Hmm?" She blinked tiredly.

"He wants to meet you in the morrow. He told me that he has deeply considered it and had even spoken about it with the Dauphine. You have to go to the council room and speak with him."

"Jean... what are you blabbering about?" She yawned.

"The Dauphin finally wants to see you!"

It took Jeanne a good minute to process the situation. She stood quickly, causing the two of them to clash their heads against one another for he was rather close when she stood. They both grunted and held their head.**  
**

"I am so sorry." She mumbled.

"Haha, no, it was mostly my fault." He chuckled and closed his eyes tightly. His forehead stung and he tried to shake it off a little bit.

"So the Dauphin wants to finally see me?" She rubbed her forehead and smiled brightly up at D'Alençon.

"Yes, darling, he said that he wants to meet with you in the morrow."

"Really? Oh thank you, God." She looked up and smiled as she clapped her hands together. "Though this better not be another meeting with his lousy officials." Jeanne suddenly remembered and gave D'Alençon a straight face.

"I hope not. He intends to attend this meeting, as I have come to understand."

"I am only praying that he meets with me. After all, if he does not, God will help me."

The Duke smiled brightly. "He will accept you and just as you have said, you will lead France to glory."

Jeanne was overjoyed and thus hugged the male for his support as she smiled. "Thank you." The male was confused and awkwardly hugged her in return.

A creak of the door was heard and a very flustered Francis entered the room. "Oh, God, I am so sorry." He turned around to leave once he saw the two other young adults hugging. "I did not mean to interrupt."

"It's not what you think!" The male retorted, letting go of the short female rather quickly.

Francis laughed and turned back to meet them again. He closed the door and proceeded towards them. "I know, I know." He was laughing and nodded at both of them.

"What's wrong, Francis?" Jean questioned as the blond male sat down on the couch.

"Caroline is a pain in the rear." He huffed. "I've been running around the castle trying to get away from her because she wants to have a picnic with me, and Isabel left me in the throne room alone."

"Caroline? Is she still not over you?" The elder laughed.

"No, she is not, and I cannot take it. It makes me very upset and annoyed. I will be getting married, hopefully soon, and I will not be cheating on Isabel, if that is what she is expecting me to do. She should know that I am not in love with her, and what we might have had will not happen again."

"You should have not played around with her, Francis. I told you that she was going to be clingy, you did not listen."

"Francis! You played with her?" Jeanne knew very well what the males meant by the term 'play'.

"Jeanne, we did not play, we..."

"I know what 'play' means. I am not stupid. But if you are going to toy with a girl, have some decency and give her some respect. It was your wrong and you have to do something to make it right again." She grumbled.

"I cannot be worrying about other women. I already have Isabel and you to look after, I don't need another."

"Are you implying that I am a burden to you? I am sorry that I want to save your country and that I want to drive the English from your lands."

"I did not mean that Jeanne, what I mean is that there are many things to worry about right now than fixing things with Caroline. I have tried to explain to her that I do not like her anymore and things of the sort, but she refuses to understand."

"Then you should have not used her in the first place, Francis."

"Jeanne, there are many things that you cannot understand for you are not male."

"As there are many things that you cannot understand for you are not female." She hissed.

Jean grabbed Jeanne's hand and smiled at her kindly as she gave him a glare. "It is alright, you feel furious at this idiot, I understand, but do not waste your time on arguing with him."

She was bitter but sighed loudly and nodded. "You are right. I am wasting my time." She calmed down and walked to the bed. "I need to get some sleep before my meeting with the Dauphin. If anyone needs me, I will be resting."

Jean smiled and nodded. "Yes, mon ange."

"Hm." She waved her hand at him and hurried into the bed.

She groaned as she heard a knock on the door and sat up from the bed as the Duke walked towards the door.

"Francis?" A voice came from the door as D'Alençon opened it.

"Caroline." He greeted and kissed her hand lightly.

"D'Alençon. It's so good to see you." She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Is Francis here?"

"May we... Talk?" He raised a dark eyebrow.

"What is there to talk about? You left me here while you hurried to Alençon and met another. I honestly do not think that there is anything to talk about."

Cousins alike, Jeanne thought as she tilted her head to the right.

"Caroline..."

"I came here to find Francis, not talk with you."

"When I left, you hated me, if I recall correctly, because I had little time to do things with you. I am a duke, I have to worry about Alençon, you are a lady-in-waiting. I left to take care of my land, and you were being stubborn. It was obvious that you wanted to end everything between us, and I am not going to spoil a chance of getting married. Leave Francis alone. He has a fiancee, he cannot have relations with you. Do you understand?"

"Being engaged did not stop him from sleeping with me." She clucked.

"Do you think that that is something to be proud of?" He did not mean to sound offensive or anything but she possibly would have taken it that way.

"Excuse me?" She blinked and looked beyond the male, spotting Jeanne on the bed, although the door was not entirely open. "I must have interrupted in the middle of something, I am so sorry that you left her waiting."

D'Alençon followed her gaze to Jeanne and he snapped his head back to the other lady. "Caroline... I suggest you do not speak of her so ill."

"She must be a special kitchen girl, non?" The maids were well known for getting around, and clearly she never liked them.

"Caroline... I am a bit too patient with you. Please do not disrespect her." D'Alençon was growing bitter. He did not like the way Caroline was talking about Jeanne.

"Kitchen girl, I think that the chef needs you more than the Duke." She called to Jeanne.

Jeanne furrowed her brows and stood from the bed. She walked over to them and D'Alençon started loosing his patience for the Lady-in-waiting.

"Pardon me?" She cocked her head to the right and blinked, not understanding the female.

"What I mean to say is that the Duke does not care about you. He only cares about your body." Caroline whispered.

"What?" Jeanne's blue eyes grew wide, spreading the ocean within them.

"Do not act so stupid, you little whore."

Jeanne opened her mouth to speak but was cut short by the Duke. "Caroline. I suggest that you keep quiet. I understand that you hate me, but that does not mean that you have to hate all the people I associate myself with. Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with you and you have nothing to do with her. I assure you that the more you say, the more you will regret."

"Are you threatening me, Duke?"

"If that is what you want." He gave her a stern look.

She gave one last glare before turning on her heel and leaving. Her shoes clacked down the hall and then disappeared.

D'Alençon turned to look at Jeanne and gave a huge sigh. "Forgive her, she has some sort of hatred for me. Please do not listen to what she has to say... She knows nothing. I am so sorry abut that ordeal."

"It is not your fault, I felt offended, but I understand." Jeanne nodded.

"She does not know what she speaks of."

"Not everyone will like me or what I stand for. She earns nothing for calling me something I am not and I do not earn anything from arguing with her either. People will hate me, I accept that."

There was a long silence and then she hurried back to the bed. "I need to sleep again."

"Right."

D'Alençon watched as she went back to bed and tried her best to fall asleep. He looked back at Francis and sighed again. He might have been frustrated with the situation that had occurred with Caroline, but he did not know what to do. The Duke knew that Jeanne felt hurt, there was nothing he could do to comfort her, and he felt guilty.

"And this is why I do not like Caroline." Francis sighed loudly. "I mean she is beautiful, but I do not like girls who are mean to others; it only makes other girls feel worthless. Only because she is a _lady-in-waiting_, she should not do everything she wants."

Jean closed his eyes a little and huffed loudly. "Do you think that it is my fault to why she has become so bitter? I broke her heart, and I have noted that ever since, she has become cold."

"If anything, I was the one that made her bitter. Did I not sleep with her and then had left her? You did what you had to, while on the other had, I had no excuses for my actions."

"You and I both need to apologize to Jeanne. She's truly very kind and sweet, and we both hurt her feelings. We have to make it up to her, and if the Dauphin rejects her... what then?" The older one of the two mumbled, trying his best not to wake up Jeanne, who was in deep slumber by then.

"Caroline needs to apologize. I need to apologize as well, but you have no need to apologize. It was not you who hurt her, and you have already apologized either way."

"I am afraid that people will only hate her. Here she is for a very good reason and people will not understand. They might ridicule her."

"Jeanne is different from court ladies, she knows when to defend herself, Jean, she is not the kind to cry over the tiniest of things."

"If anyone even dares to hurt her, believe me, I will defend her. She does not deserve to be hated."

"If you are going to make some inspirational speech on Jeanne, do not do so. She is a good girl."

"She is, but it is still not her place to speak because people believe they are greater than her, I simply want to help her the best way I can."

Francis blinked and stood from the couch. "When she awakes," he glanced her way, skimming his blue eyes over her sleeping figure, "wish her good luck on my part." He then headed for the door.

"Why? Where are you going?" Jean watched as the male opened the door.

"I am going out, I will return late. Tell Isabel not to worry about me. Oh, and tell Jeanne that I will be there to support her. She has my full respect."

"You should tell that to her personally."

"Alright, I will. But wish her luck."

"Oui."

* * *

Looking through his chest of clothing, he finally found them. Some days, Francis would like to go to the Tavern and thus he had bought 'Peasant' clothing because he did not want to attract on lookers. He hurried into them and disappeared behind a panel in the wall. It was around time for dinner, but he did not want to dine with everyone that caused him a headache, he preferred to be in a loud tavern where he was not noticed and no one would care how many glasses of rum or wine he ordered. He stepped about the hidden tunnels in the walls and tried to remember where the escape was that opened by the woods. He would hurry into town and have some drinks, then return before dawn, attend the council meeting in order to see Jeanne succeed and then he would go out on a picnic with Isabel. The day was looking fine so far, and hopefully it would go according to plan.

The trees were tall and loomed over the pathway in a protective manner, as if trying to keep the sun from touching the sweet grass or from keeping it hidden from humans. Some birds whistled and others did not. It was strange for Francis to actually listen to his surroundings because he always seemed too focused on what he was to do, not what he was doing. He kept quiet and could hear the breeze kiss the leaves, sending them shivers and causing some to gossip to one another about the sweet kiss they received from the wind. It caused a huge commotion and the whispers became white noise. What was he going to do with Caroline? Was he to even talk to her? But if he continued to ignore her, she would surely persist in talking to him again and again.

He should just apologize just like Jeanne had said. It was his wrong and he needed to correct it again. His mind wandered and he recalled the old man again. He knew so much and it made him marvel over that fact. Francis was impressed with the angel's wisdom. Of course angels were wise, but he would have never imagined for something so glorious to happen to him.

He received many stares from young ladies as they passed him by in the town. They would murmur to one another about him and he honestly preferred the whispering of the leaves over the muttering of the town girls. The leaves were refreshing, while the ladies were annoying.

Francis stepped foot in the tavern and walked past the many loud men to sit on a stool. "Wine." He ordered.

"Are we the Dauphin's kitchen boys? No wine, we are not rich." The bartender smirked.

"Mead." Francis sighed.

The large man took a tankard and filled it to the brim with mead. "Enjoy." He gave the young male a stern look.

"Hmm." Francis chugged it down.

Maybe it was because of the stress Caroline brought on him or because he just didn't care much, but he only ordered more and more mead. This caused him to be drunk and not think straight. The tankard just kept being filled up and then he thought about the Francs he had brought, maybe a little more mead since he was a duke, right?

"Hey there lovely lady." He heard a voice call, and he simply kept his gaze on the tankard. Hopefully the woman would not be bothered by the men, or else Francis would have to intervene.

"Would you like me to buy you a drink?" Someone sat next to him and he nodded. At Least he would not need to waste his Francs and use his Title as an excuse.

Another tankard was settled in front of him and he did not hesitate to drink it.

"Would you like to go back to my place?" The voice was close to him and he decided to check out what was happening. But instead the man next to him winked Francis' way.

"Hmm?"

"I said if you would like to go back to my place." The man next to him repeated.

Francis looked around a little confused but did not spot a woman, to his belief. "Hmm?" His drunk gaze drifted back to the man.

"Are you acting stupid, you whore?"

"What?" Francis raised his eyebrow at the man.

"I bought you a drink, you come back to my place with me, that is how it works." The man glared daggers at Francis.

"I am a... man?" Francis tilted his head.

"What?" Now it was the man's turn to ask the question.

"Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I am no lady." Francis could not help but laugh.

The man grew red, either of anger or embarrassment, but all together he was as red as an apple. "You deceiving son of a bitch!" The man screamed and lunged for Francis, causing them to both fall on the floor.

"Hey! Get off of me!" Francis' words were slurred.

"You stole from me and deceived me!" The man threw a punch, causing instant contact with Francis' jaw. When the first punch was thrown, as if on cue, the entire tavern was engulfed in a fight. People screamed at each other and there were flying objects being thrown across the bar.

Francis tried to get away from the man that held him down on the ground. He managed to break free and crawl away from the other man, but as he crawled away, he was pulled by his ankles and dragged back towards the man.

Francis screamed at the man and pushed him off of him as he went to throw another punch. He stood quickly, until a wooden chair collided against his back, sending him over a table. He tried to stand but was wobbling all about, the impact and the alcohol were getting to him. A man came up behind him and twisted him around, landing a punch in his right eye. Francis grunted and grabbed a tankard from behind him and sent it across the Frenchman's scruffy face. He looked around and watched as everyone punched and shoved one another into tables and other furniture. It was loud and the drunk men only got louder and rowdier.

"Oh, to hell with composure!" He grumbled and sent another tankard flying at a big buff man that had the bartender in a choke hold. "Hey! How about you fight me?" He taunted.

The man's eyes turned into slits and he ran towards Francis, a vase in his hands.

"Come one, Francis, put those knightly skills into good use." He mumbled and dodged as the man flung the vase to hit him in the head.

"Try again." Francis was in control rather well, but he was still slurring words and a little too wobbly for his own good.

The big man scrunched his nose and grabbed Francis by the roots of his blond locks- what was this? A cat fight? or a bar fight? He took control of his head and shoved him onto the wooden counter top, dragging him across it. His head was brought up and another punch flew across his face, breaking his lip and nose in the process. Maybe starting a fight was not the best idea.

Francis was feeling nauseous from the alcohol and the pain in his head. The man was prepared to punch him again but Francis could not hold in his upset stomach anymore and he puked on the tall man.

The man's face turned from stern to horrified and disgusted. He looked at Francis and threw one last punch, causing Francis to see stars.

* * *

The sun hit his face and he awoke. Thank The Lord that it was all a dream, he sighed. He tried to move about the bed but it did not feel at all like his bed, and it was rather cold too. He sat up too quickly for himself, causing a pang in both his face and head. "Oh no." He grumbled and looked about himself, as soon as he saw the iron bars he grunted. "Curses." He could taste the metallic taste of the blood and the sour one from his early hurl.

He covered his eyes from the sun and tried to stay in the dark. He needed to sober up and think about how to tell them that he was a duke. It took a long while for him to be able to stand properly, and thus he walked to the iron bars and called for the guard.

"What is it, swine?" A guard scrunched his nose and hissed.

"I suggest you do not speak to me in such way, release me." Francis grumbled. His head felt heavy and pounded.

"And who are you to order me around, _peasant_?"

"Duke of Lorraine, now get me out of this dump before the Dauphin finds out I've been locked up." His blue eyes were barely open, one swollen from the previous night and one because of his hangover.

"Oh, forgive me, my Duke." The man faked decency and laughed. "Now stop it with the lies and get back on the bed."

"I am the Duke of Lorraine, did you not hear me? Let me out."

"What proof have you?"

"I am the Duke! This ring state-" He showed his hand to the guard but had forgotten that he had left his ring in the castle. Things simply did not want to go his way.

"Caught in your own lie, peasant."

"I am the Duke! Let me out of this dump immediately! I can have your head." Francis narrowed his eyes but it was hard because his eye was stinging.

"Hey! Pierre, get a load of this prisoner! He believes he is a duke!"

"We have not gotten those kind in a while." Another guard came in to ridicule him.

"When I get out, you will regret what you are doing." Francis sighed and walked back to the bed, waving his hand as if showing that he did not care and wanted them to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking nonsense."

* * *

"Where in the bloody hell is Francis?" D'Alençon hissed as he had found out that he was not in his room nor in Isabel's." He told me that he would be here, but he is not, and the meeting is to start in half an hour. What is he thinking?"

"Calm down, he is bound to show up." Isabel only hoped.

"What if he doesn't? And the Dauphin does not accept me? I need more people to be thinking good of me. He will listen to his cousins before his council. Plus, his council hates me, I need one more person to support me."

"I promise you that he will accept you, and if he does not, I will do everything in my power to make him accept you. Do you understand me, Jeanne?" D'Alençon reassured her.

Jeanne found it hard, but she nodded. She needed to trust him because she could not put her trust into Francis in a moment like this.

"What will you be wearing?" Isabel looked at Jeanne, noting she had still not changed out of her night gown.

"Oh no." Jeanne had not thought of that. " Your Grace, do you have any clothes that no longer fit you?" She turned to him.

"Men's clothes?" Isabel lifted her eyebrow.

"Oui, if I am to lead an army of men, I must dress like one." She nodded.

"No, Jeanne, that will cause a commotion about the generals." D'Alençon shook his head.

"I must." She persisted.

"I have an idea, Jeanne." Isabel smiled. The Spaniard hurried to the chest and took out an outfit she knew Jeanne would not mind. "Wear this."

"I must get going, may God bless you, Jeanne." The Duke smiled at her and nodded as he turned to leave.

"Thank you." Jeanne called back. Once he had left, Isabel had helped Jeanne into the clothes.

D'Alençon was thinking of how the meeting would turn out as he walked to the council room. He was afraid that the Dauphin would reject her but he had so much faith in her. After reaching the council room, he sat down and they awaited the rest of the members to file in.

"Where is Francis?" The Dauphin tilted his head and took a look about the room, as everyone settled in their seats.

D'Alençon closed his eyes and hoped Francis would come in through the door, but no. He simply would not.

"If Francis feels that this is not important, then why should We?" Charles blinked and faced the young male.

"Sire, you must see her." D'Alençon insisted.

"And why is that? Francis had all but begged me to hold this meeting, and if he so decides as to not show up, is it really worth my time?"

"Sire, the mistakes of our cousin are not the mistakes of the young lady. She is reliable and trust worthy. Her heart is devoted to save this country. Please, give her a chance. Plus, what can you possibly loose? This war has been going on for practically one hundred years, we might as well take a chance on her." Jean reasoned.

"If she proves to be a disappointment, you can only imagine what will occur to you."

D'Alençon was anxiously awaiting her arrival as the Dauphin had prepared a challenge for the young lady.

The door opened and she was announced. The Dauphin's council and two other men, that commanded parts of the army looked upon her.

She wore a dress; a very simple one. It was blue and simplistic, no bows, no lace, nothing. Her blond hair was made into an updo, only two locks of hair were curled to hug her face as the rest was pulled back in a sort of bun.

She looked around and then faced a man that sat in the middle of the semi-circled table, that seemed to be seating in a throne. She had never seen the Dauphin, she might have been living in the castle but she was not to leave the room for any reason whatsoever.

"Are you not going to greet your Dauphin?" The man in the throne gave her a confused look.

"Oui," She nodded and turned to a man in the corner of the table, "my dear Dauphin." She bowed to him. ***{1}**

The entire table murmured and caused a bit of a commotion, but Jeanne held true to her statement. She remained bowing until the Dauphin gave her the word to stand. "Stand." He announced and stood from his seat. "How did you know it was me?" He blinked. "Did anyone tell you?" He glanced over at D'Alençon.

"God has told me." She stated and looked him in the eyes, not blinking once.

The Dauphin seemed to be taken aback by her statement but he wished to believe it. He ordered her to follow him and they left the room for a long while. D'Alençon could only pray that the Dauphin was fancying her courage.

The young male tried to calm down for his hands were beginning to shake. The council talked about themselves, either accepting or rejecting the girl but all D'Alençon could worry about was what was to happen to Jeanne. He sat impatiently and tapping his foot, ignoring the plump man's comments for he knew that if he heard, he would possibly make the man apologize, and everyone knew how stubborn the fat man was.

The door opened once more and everyone scrambled to their feet as the Dauphin entered the room alone.

D'Alençon opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Badeaux. "Have you decided that she is not worth your time, sire?" He smirked.

"Actually," Charles turned to D'Alençon, "We have accepted her." He blinked and smiled.

"But sire-"

"My decision is made, I will not change it." Charles' expression turned stern and he faced Badeaux, who seemed to be the only one to detest the idea.

"Yes, sire." Badeaux huffed and shot a nasty look Jean's way.

"Lovely. We will introduce Jeanne to court this evening, if anyone has any complaints, We will hear them out, but our mind will not change." And with his simple statement he turned around and left the room.

D'Alençon's knees had become slightly weak and he took in a huge sigh of relief, thank God that he did not give up on Jeanne.

Now to find Francis.

* * *

The loud noises that came from the street were bothering him and he could not sit still. He paced about the cell and rubbed his face ever so often for he had forgotten that he was bruised all over. His back ached but he paid little attention to it, he was more worried about Jeanne. He felt horrible that he had gotten into this mess and missed Jeanne's meeting with the Dauphin.

He remained pacing about, trying to think of a way to convince the guards that he was a duke, but nothing seemed as if it would work.

* * *

That evening, as the Dauphin had stated, she was announced at court as a military Commander. People had begun to talk and it had not even been twenty minutes when the dirty glares were cast upon the young lady.

"You look so beautiful." A voice came from behind her.

Jeanne thought little of it for she had believed that ladies were only talking amongst ladies, that was until she was tapped on the shoulder and the lady repeated her sentence. "You look beautiful."

Jeanne blinked and tilted her head. She furrowed her brows for she was confused, no one ever talked to her nowadays, and she did not think she looked at all beautiful.

"M-merci." Jeanne nodded. "As do you, m'lady." She bowed slightly.

"I heard you will be commanding the army, is that true?" The auburn haired female smiled.

"Yes, I hope to lead France to victory." Jeanne nodded.

"I bet you can already tell, I am not French," she sighed, "but, I very much admire what you are doing for this country and for your people. I am amazed by your devotion and patriotism, it is very inspirational."

"Thank you." Now this compliment had made her overjoyed. Her lips stretched to a large smile and she felt supported, something she had possibly not felt before. She was supported by a person she had never met before.

"My name is Morgana, I am Scottish." She extended her hand towards the younger female.

"And I am Jeanne, I come from Lorraine, it is an honour to meet you, Lady Morgana."

"The honour is all mine." Morgana smiled and signaled for Jeanne to follow after her. "I could show you about the castle, if you would like." She then offered.

"The Spanish Infanta has already done so." Jeanne mumbled, trying not to sound rude.

"Oh," Morgana bit her lip, "that is awkward, no?" She laughed.

"I am so sorry."

"Oh, do not apologize. I am only late on the offer, but how about I show you around the town?"

Jeanne glanced over at the lady-in-waiting and nodded. "I would very much like that."

"Then it is settled, we do so in two days time." Morgana smiled.

From the midst of nowhere a young lady appeared and began talking to them, normally at first.

Jeanne wished to glare at the lady that came to talk for she had been the one that insulted her the previous day. But Jeanne held back the bitter glare and instead held an indifferent look.

"Are you telling me that a peasant will be leading the army of France?" Caroline hissed and glared over at Jeanne.

"Maybe you should worry less about those around you and more about yourself." Morgana spat, venom lacing her words. She hooked her arm around Jeanne's and dragged her away, mumbling something along the lines of not listening to nonsense. All the while, leaving Caroline offended and without words.

* * *

**Footnotes**

***{1} - **In real life, she was presented at court as the palace held a ball. There was a fake dauphin and she recognized the real one from within the crowd.

**~Author's Note~**

**Hello everyone, I have come to the conclusion that I will be updating less frequently. I know that my updates already have a long span of time between each one, but things have been difficult for me lately and I fear that I do not have the time to write, as well as I should not be writing because I need to focus on my future. Seeing as I am not going into the writing business, I have no need for writing, but it will continue being a hobby of mine. Although I love to write, there is no first degree encouragement to make me keep writing lately. Therefore, I regret to inform you, that I will be updating every now and again. Forgive me, and I hope that you have enjoyed my stories thus far and hopefully I do not keep you all waiting for too long. I also do not have proper means of writing because my iPod could only do so much. During the month of August, I will have more time and more motivation to write, so do please await my updates. :)  
**

**Sincerely,**

**~Ms. AtomicBomb**


	6. History and Romance?

**~Author's Note~**

**Hey guys... I know that this was a very very very very late update and I sincerely apologize. I had a good two thousand words written for the ending... but my ipod was stupid and decided to delete it... So I am actually very upset right now. Anyway, on the bright side, after working my butt off for a long while, I now own a nice laptop. YAY! Expect more recent updates! :) So now I will be able to write properly and my sister will still help me edit. AWESOME!**

**I would like to give a shout out to Pegasus; thank you for your reviews; I love everyone of them! I would also like to thank Super Serious Gal and Fullmetal Assassin; THANK YOU! Your reviews make me super happy! Thank you thank you thank you thank you! I hope you are all having an amazing day!**

**So Enjoy!**

**Thank you again for reading! You people are AWESOME! Thank you for the 320 Views! **

**Sincerely, **

**~Ms. Atomic Bomb**

* * *

**History and... Romance? Oh, No That was an Act!**

"Where is Francis? I have not seen him in three days..." The dauphin pondered as he stood from his throne and proceeded to talk with D'Alençon. As the Dauphin had stated, no one had heard of Francis since the evening of his disappearance, not even Isabel.

"Sire, he is on a hunting trip. After not attending the meeting, since he had slept in, he went on a hunting trip as to avoid his duties altogether."

"Hmph, he is a coward." Charles mumbled lightly, feeling as if D'Alençon was not telling the truth, yet he did not call him out for it. "When will he be returning?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, sire."

"He best be returning soon, for I fear he might be expelled from court." Brown eyes flickered whilst he looked away. "My Dauphine." He called to the blonde female that sat on her throne, looking about the room. Once she had heard her title, she stood and made her way to the Dauphin gracefully, beige dress following close behind. "When Francis does return, do inform me; I wish to speak with him." The Dauphin stated.

"Yes, your highness." D'Alençon nodded as the soon-to-be king and his wife exited the room.

The Duke sighed loudly and rubbed his forehead. What was he going to do? When the Dauphin is to find out, he would sure get an enormous scolding.

Turning on his heel, he was ready to walk out of the room when a voice stopped him.

"My Duke." It called.

"Oui?" He turned around and met a man face-to-face.

"I have done what you had asked of me." He slightly bowed his head.

"Did you find out anything?"

"On the night of his disappearance, there was a fight in the local Tavern."

D'Alençon sighed and grumbled a curse under his breath before giving the guard an appropriate response. "Merci beaucoup."

"Your Grace." The guard left the room.

The boots clattered on the floor as D'Alençon made his way down the left wing of the castle, causing a set of onlookers and some couple of glares. He paid no heed and simply looked ahead of himself, thinking of his sole purpose at the second; tell Isabel.

"Ma belle, I have a... Hypothesis of sorts." He entered the room.

Isabel turned around from her chair and glanced over at him. "What have you learned?" She raised her eyebrow as she set her quill pen down and stood from the wooden structure. She was too familiar with his nickname for her and she could only smile.

"I think that he is in jail."

"In jail?" Her green orbs grew in size and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

"It is only a guess," he made his way towards her, "but either he died or is in jail. I'd like to believe the latter."

"H-how-"

"There was a fight in the Tavern, of which I believe he was at, that night." He had cut her off and landed a hand on her shoulder as if to comfort her.

"Then we will have to check." She sighed and bit the inside of her bottom lip.

* * *

Meanwhile, the town was as busy as ever. The people were going about their daily lives; getting water from the well, or buying food at the market. The day was young and the two ladies watched the busy life of the French citizens.

"Did you live in a town, or in a village?" Morgana squinted for the sun was shining in her eyes and she brought a black-gloved hand to shield her brown eyes from the sun.

"A village. It was small, so everyone knew each other; not like this city." Jeanne mumbled, still amazed by the busy people.

"Well, if you do wish to come by the town, or if you are forced," Morgana smirked, "like now; this is the market. You can buy goods and services. Always be specific on what you have to say, they might sell you more than what you bargained for." She rolled her eyes and remembered the time they tried to sell her a dog.

"Be specific." Jeanne nodded as if to make a note of it in her head.

"Oh, make sure that you do not tell them more than they need to know, alright?" The Lady turned to Jeanne and raised her eyebrows as they continued to walk.

"Yes, milady." The younger nodded once more.

"This is the Blacksmith's house, you will need him for your armour and such." She pointed to a house on their right, it obtained a forge and other fancy things.

"It looks cozy." Jeanne giggled.

"That is the arena, in which events are held for the people's entertainment. D'Alençon and Isabel of Castilla et Leon have won numerous times in that arena."

"Isabel?" A light eyebrow rose. "Has Francis ever won?"

"Yes, she has won against Francis and even Jean at times. And Yes, Francis has won a good handful of times." Morgana smiled. "And this is the tavern." She could smell the mead and body fluids already, thus she scrunched her nose and pulled Jeanne away from there as soon as possible. They walked a little further until they reached a small plaza, where they looked at some scarfs on one of the stands.

"How does this one look?" Morgana covered her mouth with the red fabric, winking at the other female.

Jeanne giggled and covered her mouth as to not laugh too hard. "It looks beautiful." She replied.

"What about this one?" The Scotswoman blinked as she made a light green scarf hug her face.

"Perfect."

"You would look lovely with this one!" She wrapped a dark blue one around the sixteen year-old.

"Really, milady?" Jeanne blinked and blushed lightly.

"How do you French say it... Oui?" She giggled and they bought the scarf.

* * *

Francis eyes grew wide -well, at least one -as he heard the familiar Scottish accent that was evident in a lady's French. He stood from the bed and hurried to the small window at the top of the southeast wall of the cell. "Morgana!" He yelled out of the opening that met the floor of the town, thank God it had not rained in the past three days.

"Morgana!"

"Did you hear that?" Morgana furrowed her brows and paid attention to the sounds that were made around her.

"What is it, milady?" Jeanne asked, tilting her head to the right.

"I heard my name... Maybe it's just my imagination." She shrugged it off.

"Morgana!"

"There it is again!"

"What, milady?" Jeanne did not catch it quite then, the busy town was all she could intake.

"Am I going insane?" A soft look struck the Scotswoman's stern face.

"Morgana!"

"Ah, yes! I heard it!" Jeanne nodded.

"Good, I am not insane." She giggled. "But... Where is it coming from?"

"Morgana!"

"Is that not-"

"Francis!" Both young ladies looked at each other with determined expressions.

"Morgana! Down here!" He called.

Both girls looked down and looked about the floor, but nothing.

"In the dungeon! I'm in bloody jail." He hissed and their heads shot towards the structure, slowly lowering their gaze to the floor.

"What in bloody hell are you doing in that shit hole?" Morgana glared, not even paying the slightest attention to her crude words.

Jeanne's blue orbs grew as she gasped lightly and she looked over at the Lady-in-waiting. "Milady, you should not swear."

"Oh, whatever!" Morgana grumbled and kept her gaze on Francis. "What the hell happened to you?"

"You might want to stand... People are staring." Francis gulped, noting that men where stopping to stare at the bent down Ladies.

"Hmm?" Morgana raised a dark eyebrow and looked back, only to see the men. "Have you not any shame, perverts?" She spat and the group of men rolled their eyes.

"God is watching, he knows of what you do." Jeanne stated.

"Is that so?" A man raised an eyebrow.

"Yes it is." She retorted.

"Hm. Really pretty lady?"

"Come on, Diane, the Duke wants us home." Morgana hooked her arm around Jeanne's and pulled her away, mumbling something about 'play along' incoherently.

"Your duke can wait."

"Can the Cousin of the Dauphin wait? D'Alençon wants us home." Morgana gritted her teeth and the men backed off. For some odd reason, everyone respected D'Alençon. Maybe because of his numerous victories, or simply because he was a good man, but everyone respected him almost as much as the Dauphin, maybe even more. People always questioned the Dauphin's rule, if they were Burgundian supporters.

Arriving at the castle, the ladies hurried to Isabel's bed chambers. Not even bothering to knock on the door, they entered quickly; causing the Spaniard and the Duke to be quite startled.

"He's in jail!" Both ladies panted in unison.

"Curses! Now what?" D'Alençon grunted and fell back on the couch.

"You could bail him out..." Isabel explained.

"Dressed as a duke? And when they find out Francis is a duke, what then? The entire town will be talking about it."

"Well... We have to get him out somehow." Jeanne murmured.

"Really? I did not know that, Jeanne." He sarcastically responded.

Jeanne was offended by his choice of tone and twisted her lips into a frown. "I understand that you are upset, but you do not have to treat me in a rude manner. I am sorry that I do not compare to your lever of intellect."

"Oh, shut up." He was clearly stressed from the situation with Francis that he seemed to block out anyone else.

"D'Alençon? Why are you being so rude?" She inquired. "What have I done?"

Jean licked his lips and closed his eyes. "Hm." He breathed and thought of a way to get Francis out of prison, not paying the slightest bit of attention to what Jeanne was saying.

"Dress up as a merchant and get him out for all I care! I did not come here to be treated like trash." Jeanne hissed and glared down at the Duke.

Jean's eyes grew in size and he jumped to his feet, taking Jeanne's head between his hands and kissing her forehead as she pouted. "Jeanne, my dear, you are a genius!"

The young lady was taken aback from his change of attitude, in fact all the ladies were. They stared at him with confused looks.

"I dress up as a merchant, one of you pretend to be my wife and we pay his bail. If anything, we can improvise." He explained.

"What?" Jeanne was skeptical. "I was mad... I didn't mean what I said..."

"I know, but the idea is brilliant! I cannot dare go as a duke, and it would be questionable if a peasant had so much money, thus a merchant is the perfect choice!"

"I guess..." Jeanne bit her bottom lip.

"But why a wife?" Morgana questioned, truly concerned.

"Well," he touched his chin, "two heads are better than one?"

"No, he's right!" Isabel nodded and made her way closer to the rest of the young adults.

"How so?" Morgana clucked.

"If he forgets what to say, we would be able to help him."

"So who wants to be my wife?" D'Alençon smirked and looked at the three candidates. "Any takers?"

"Over my dead body." Morgana laughed.

"I'd rather not go fetch my fiancé with my 'husband'." Isabel bit the inside of her cheek and puffed up the other.

"Oh no," Jeanne shook her head as all heads turned to see her. "Please not me, I will ruin it all."

"Please, my dear, for me?" D'Alençon pulled his best puppy eyes and small pout.

"But why do you need a wife?" She asked.

"I don't need just any wife... I need you. Please, Jeanne? I don't want to go alone."

"You sound like a child, D'Alençon."

"Please? It won't hurt, darling, we will only be there for a few minutes and then we are done. Please come with me." He took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes.

Jeanne sighed in defeat and nodded. "Fine, I will go. But if we are caught..."

"We will not be caught, okay?" He smiled brightly. "Now, let us get you dressed to look like a Merchant's wife!"

Both were dressed simplistically but at the same time rather posh, it was meant to make them look believable.

Jeanne was still hung up in the entire wife idea, did she really need to go? No lady in her right mind would even go within five feet of a prison. She tried to convince the male of taking a different plan, one that she would not play a role in, but he was persistent and she knew not how to escape the situation. She did want to get Francis out of Prison, but she did not want to wait in the carriage and mess up the entire plan because a soldier started a conversation with her or something of the sort.

Jeanne bit her bottom lip and looked down, whilst clutching the dress in her hands as the carriage made its way to the town.

"Is something wrong?" D'Alençon raised an eyebrow and watched as the young lady fidgeted with the dress every so often. She was scaring him and even making him feel guilty for dragging her along. He did nothing wrong, correct? It was nothing to make her too upset, right?

"I apologize to keep questioning your decision, but I see no point in me being your '_wife_'." She muttered under her breath as she continued to play with the dress.

D'Alençon gasped and slightly coughed. "What a rude thing to say, non, mon ange?" He chuckled.

"I apologize to have offended your decision, Your Grace-"

"I do not mean _that,_" he twirled his finger, "I mean that I feel upset that you would not like to be my wife. Am I that ugly?"

"Oh no, I did not mean to imply that," she flailed her hands in front of herself as she felt embarrassed and guilty, "I mean that I am just afraid that I will mess up." It could have been the hundredth time that the Duke heard the exact same words that day, but he did not mind. He understood her anxiety.

"It will be alright, my darling, now simply relax and act like a loving wife that I know one day you will soon become." He smiled at her and winked.

Jeanne blushed and looked out the window as to avert her gaze from the male.

"Possibly mine." He then murmured under his breath.

Jeanne looked towards the male as she heard mumbling, but did not quite catch it. "Pardon me, Your Grace?"

"Sorry, mon ange, I was simply thinking out loud."

"Oh, okay." She nodded and continued to pay attention to the trees that they passed as they headed for the town at the bottom of the hill.

Once the carriage had come to a complete stop the Duke sat up straight and waited for the footman to open the door. Once it was done, he stepped out of the carriage and clapped his hands together. Noticing that he remained with his ring of Dukedom, he quickly removed it and hurried back into the carriage, throwing it at the beauty sitting still. She flinched but caught it before it hit her face.

"Change of plans; you are my betrothed. Wear the ring; make sure the seal is not visible," he spoke quickly and paused, "my love." He smiled as if to calm her, once he noted she held a frantic look on her face.

She opened her mouth in order to speak but before she could, D'Alençon was gone. Sighing in defeat, she rolled her eyes and uttered a few annoyed words under her breath.

"Hello." D'Alençon greeted as he entered the main entrance of the prison.

"Sir," a soldier stood from his seat, "what brings you here?"

"I heard that there had been a brawl in the tavern not too many days ago. I came because I believe that a servant of mine is probably here."

"Ah, we brought many men that night. You would have to be more specific, my good sir." The soldier fixed his helmet and grabbed a enormous ring of keys.

"Averagely tall man, long blond locks, almost like a woman's, blue eyes, a little bit audacious." He touched his own features as he described him.

The soldier thought for a bit and then he nodded. "I might know who you are referring to, sir." And then the soldier motioned for the Duke to follow him.

He was lead to the dungeons and almost instantly, the Duke took in the horrid smell of bodily fluids and nearly choked. "Oh dear goodness gracious." He spat, remembering that Jeanne always said _'Don't use The Lord's name in vain.'_

"Here we are." The soldier spoke. "Hey, peasant, I think your master has arrived."

Francis lifted his head as he groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you that I am a Duke."

"Ah, he _is_ the one." D'Alençon laughed and watched as Francis pulled a horrified expression.

"I assume you really aren't a duke." The soldier laughed loudly, then turned to D'Alençon. "This prisoner believed he was a duke. Always trying to convince us but we only had a good laugh."

D'Alençon laughed and waved his hand about. "He always plays that card when he gets in trouble. _'I'll have you know that I am a Duke.'_ But of course how can they ever believe him. Such a stupid man."

"If I may ask, why are you retrieving this man when you may buy another one?" The soldier fumbled with the keys.

D'Alençon twisted his lips into a believable stern look. "It is rather complicated to explain, and as I recall, it is not much of your business, correct?"

"Sorry sir."

"So this lowlife is pretty beaten up, no?" The Duke changed the subject.

"His face was swollen and his clothes were covered in blood and body fluids. It was revolting, but we had to pile them up into the carriage and drag them into individual cells." He still could not find the key as he tried to fit many into the key hole.

"I can only imagine. Dirty lowlifes, when will they ever learn? Playing women, men, and the country. When will they ever do good?"

"They only seem to think about how drunk they can get."

"They worry not of those who care; leaving them waiting for them to appear. Their friend could be going through the greatest achievement of their life, and these horrid males only think of mead."

"Exactly."

"Anyway," he shook his head, "do they have a fine? Do I need to pay anything?" D'Alençon asked as the man successfully fit a key but removed it.

The soldier thought a little bit, "this man is believed to have started the fight, and therefore, his bail is a bit..." the male thought for another short while, maybe looking for a better way to state the word, or possibly making up an excuse to squeeze more money out of the duke, "higher."

The Duke bit his bottom lip and silently cursed under his breath; he had not brought much Francs in all honesty. "How many Francs would I have to pay?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Around two-hundred Francs." The soldier stated before opening the door.

D'Alençon's eye twitched and he hesitated as he reached for the coin purse he had attached to his belt. "Of course." He exhaled calmly, as if to not be irritated; he was known as the '_poorest_ _man in France_' after all. "Three Hundred; use the change for most repairs of the Tavern." He handed the coin purse to the soldier and his gesture was replaced by a turn of a key and a satisfying clicking sound to both of the Dukes.

"Come along, peasant." D'Alençon announced and then turned to leave the dungeons, recalling in which direction he had entered. "And keep far, please, I do not want to smell a mixture of disgusting scents."

Francis almost growled, but refrained, he could not talk back to his 'master', instead, he rolled his blue eyes and followed the older male out of the dungeons and past the main entrance.

"Darling," Jean called as he noted that a soldier was leaning against the carriage and speaking to the young lady inside, "I apologize that I kept you waiting."

At first, when she heard the nickname, she did not recognize it to be for her, and she did not look towards the Duke, but out of the corner of her mind; she recalled. "Mon amour, I have not been waiting long..." She mumbled.

The soldier jolted and stood up quickly, glancing at the disguised Duke.

"I assume that the soldier has not bothered you, ma cherie?"

"Not the slightest."

"I only hope." Jean shot a threatening look towards the soldier and entered the carriage. "Peasant, join the carriage rider," He watched as Francis proceeded to the front of the vehicle, "that is, after you close our door. Would you want the soon-to-be mistress falling off?"

Francis gritted his teeth and pulled off his best smile. "Yes of course, forgive me, my dear master. It seems as if my hangover has not entirely left me, I ask for your sincerest forgiveness."

D'Alençon nodded and turned towards Jeanne as Francis closed the door, a small smug smirk on his face. The carriage continued its way back to the palace after Francis boarded the vehicle. When they were well away from the town and into the woods, since they had decided to take the long way there, they stopped mid-way into their voyage.

The Duke helped Jeanne down from the carriage as Francis came to join them. "How am I to enter the palace like this, if the Dauphin so does not know?" He questioned.

"And how was it that you left? That will be the way that you will return. If the dauphin asks; you were on a hunting trip after you overslept and did not attend Jeanne's meeting," he turned to Jeanne, "excuse me, my dear," he said and returned his gaze to Francis, "because you so lacked the balls to face everyone." D'Alençon nearly growled at the other male.

"I did not think that I was going to be jailed, I had no intention of not attending-"

"I know, Francis, but it is ridiculous that you even took the chance to leave at a time like that. Take responsibility, I do not know, grab it out of your ass if you have to, bu-"

"Your grace... it's alright, his grace understands, you do not need to be upset. Calm down, and you may discuss this later, when things are stable? If I so may suggest." Jeanne squeezed the Duke's hand, which was when she noticed that after he had helped her down from the carriage, he had not let her hand go, causing her to blush slightly.

"You are correct, we will discuss this later. For now, go through the tunnels, and take a long bath before you meet us in Isabel's chambers," He took a short breath, "Because _God_, you smell revolting... The Dauphin also wants to see you, so do make sure not to go through the hallways... alright?" He looked at Francis.

Jeanne giggled slightly and tried to hide it, she did not want to seem rude, but Francis did reek of a mixture of foul stenches. She looked at an embarrassed Francis and he huffed in annoyance. "I know, I know." He then smiled and looked at the intertwined hands of the two young adults. "When did Jeanne and you get all touchy-touchy?" It was his turn to smirk smugly.

D'Alençon's eyes grew large as he realized that he still had her hand tightly within his and let it go rather quickly. "I-I apologize." He mumbled towards Jeanne, since he was the one that held onto her hand tightly as hers was slightly limp within his own.

"Three days is a long time, now that I think about it. Since I have left, you have gotten engaged, is that not correct? Your ring on her hand? Speaking to one another with nicknames... You've finally found the right one."

"We pretended to be married for the sake of getting you out of that hell hole, if you do not appreciate it, then I would be glad to take you back." D'Alençon was red, the embarrassment was killing him, not to mention that the rose red Jeanne that was standing right beside him inched away slightly, removing his ring from her thin finger.

"Well, if it was just an act, you really convinced me too. It seemed completely realistic, spot on." Francis decided to add effect by clapping. "Good one."

D'Alençon tried to avoid his sass and walked back to the carriage. "We'll see each other again in the castle. If you have anything more to say, you can say it there. Come along now, Jeanne." She was still standing in front of Francis.

* * *

Francis felt disgusting as he walked through the tunnels of the palace; the first thing he would do was take a long bath, for he did smell horrible. He promised himself he would never get drunk again, and that he would never get into a bar fight either; he already had had too much of prison in his life. No way he was ever returning.

The stuffy tunnels were making his head hurt, maybe it was actually the smell he bore, but altogether it was getting to him. The last time he had smelt something so horrid was... Alright it was best not to think about it, and he made a note not to speak of it in front of her either. He stepped carefully on the uneasy path for he did not want to fall and break a leg or something of the sort. He finally had reached his panel after half an hour of wandering around in the tunnels. He slowly and carefully opened it, in order to not make any loud sounds.

He needed to dispose of his clothing and take a bath as soon as possible. He called a maid quickly and ordered for her to fill the tub, of which she had mumbled a retort along the lines of something smelling like death and Francis had to growl her way in order for her to not speak of it again.

"The bath is filled, your grace." She hummed, for she was excited that the smell would be gone in less than ten minutes. She turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

"You're going to have to help me take this bath, darling." He smirked.

She almost sighed in defeat but stopped herself. "Yes, your grace." There was a strong hint of regret in her voice, and it only made him smile.

She harshly scrubbed the male's back with a stern look on her soft features. "Oh God, why must it be me?" She mumbled as she looked up at the ceiling. She had tied the rest oh her hair back and rolled her sleeves up after putting on an apron; she too felt she needed to dispose of her clothing for she felt that just being in the same room would make her clothes be impregnated by the smell of 'death'.

"Are you planning to scrub my skin off? Be a little more gentle, my darling." He spoke as he scrubbed his own legs. His back was already aching and bruised due to the hard contact he had endured from the chair, he even had some scrapes and cuts, that burned every time she ran the sponge over them.

"Your grace, not to offend you, but did you fall in a pile of horse manure?" She felt her stomach become uneasy with the feeling of sickness.

"Not exactly." Not even the most rotten horse manure would smell as revolting as he did.

"I must scrub this hard if you wish for the smell to leave."

Francis groaned and nodded. "I know, I know; just scrub." His voice was a little low and embarrassed.

"Here are the clothes you wanted, your grace." The maid had prepared an elegant pair of trousers and a simplistic shirt, to top it off with a fancy vest. He was not going to dress exotically, but neither too shabby.

"Thank you, my dear, may you please dispose of these..." His voice drifted as his gaze left her and looked upon his peasant garbs.

"Yes, your grace." She nodded and exchanged the soft clothing for the nasty ones. This job was killing her and she could only take so much.

After the maid had left, he had made his way back into the tunnels in order to reach Isabel's chambers; as D'Alençon had said, he would be there and they would discuss what was to happen and how he was to deal with the Dauphin.

Knocking on the panel lightly, he fixed his clothes and finalized his hair, he needed to look perfect, aside from his swollen black eye and broken lip, that is.

The brunette lady opened the panel door and met face to face with the bruised male. She jumped backward for she was taken aback by his appearance. A soft gasp escaping her red lips. "Oh my heavens! What happened to you?" She lifted her hand to brush his eye lightly. His eye twitched at the sudden contact but he chuckled as if to sooth her.

"Do not worry, my dear, I am completely fine, I can assure you of that. How are you? Is everything alright here?" He looked her in the eyes and took her hand in his, grazing his lips over it.

Her hardened features softened and in her soft gaze she held love and relief. "I am fine." She smiled. "But lets treat your wounds, I heard you have been injured horribly, let me check if you have anything that might be infected."

"I took a long bath, Isabel, if there was anything, it should be clean by now." He assured, still keeping her hand close to his lips, she could feel his warm breath against her fingers.

"Well, love birds," D'Alençon spoke and made both young adults jump in surprise, "we need to discuss _this_ problem..." He signaled towards Francis.

"I never asked for you to solve my problems." Francis grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Alright," the dark haired male pressed his lips together, "I will not help you." He shrugged and looked away. "But remember... The Dauphin is waiting for you."

Francis huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I get it. I apologize, now please help me out?" He raised a blond eyebrow, hoping he could convince his cousin to help him face the Dauphin.

D'Alençon slightly tucked in his chin and let a small smug and triumphant smile conquer his lips. "Come on!" He signaled for the blond to approach him. When he finally did, D'Alençon wrapped a hand around the man's shoulders and ruffled his hair. "Don't go getting drunk again, idiot." He laughed.

Francis smiled and laughed along. "I know, I know." He chimed this time around.

Isabel cleared her throat and both males turned their heads towards her. "And what do you intend on telling the Dauphin? That a pheasant hit you in the eye before flying away?" Her hand was on her hip as she inquired. **[1]**

Both males raised their eyebrows and it became evident that they really were related, they looked so similar, and it truly scared Jeanne a tad bit.

"Let us see if we can cover that bruise up." Isabel smiled and approached Francis to make him sit down.

Francis obeyed as his head nodded. "Is my eye that bad? I mean will he not notice anyways? I looked at my eye, and it is really scary, can you not see that weird blood like puddle close to my pupil and near the corner of my eye?"

"Yes, I can see it, and it is making me really concerned." She mumbled, trying to hide her fear and disappointment. His eye was still swollen rather extremely. It was still squinted and it was possibly closed for all she knew.

"I apologize for scaring you..." His voice was so light, that she was the only one to hear. She sighed and grabbed the white powder that she was to apply to his face. She knew it was not going to be believable, but she applied it either way. With every application of the make-up, the purple bruise began to disappear.

"There we go." She smiled.

"It looks as if he's a ghost..." D'Alençon laughed.

Francis grumbled and shrugged. "Oh well... The Dauphin won't believe us either way." He huffed in depressing defeat.

* * *

"You should not trust a women so freely with your life." The corpulent male grumbled.

"We make Our own decisions; We will test her, and if she passes, she will lead the army." The Dauphin closed his eyes and breathed with discontent. Did his council always have to complain about his wishes? He could never have an individual say on things, could he? Especially against Badeaux, whom -for the record- lent money to the army and was the one that gave money to the soldiers, so that they would not abandon the army.

"My Dauphin, it is a bit _too_ risky to pay attention to her at times of war, and if she is to fail you? What then?" Malboeuf questioned.

"The tests that We will prepare will ensure that she will _not_ fail me at any given time. If she says she is from God, then she will not fail either way, am I correct?" He turned to Bishop Lacerte.

"Well, sire, we must ensure that she indeed has visions and that they are in fact from the Lord, as she so states." The Bishop answered, making sure that he did not sound rude or questionable.

"I understand, and that is what I wish to know. Are her visions really from God?"

"She says she is a Virgin, if she so is, it is God speaking to her, if she is not... well... that is a different situation and a different being altogether."

"Then she must prove her Virginity, if that is what you are insisting, my Bishop."

"It is the only way to determine that it is our God that is speaking for her."

"Then we shall make arrangements for that." Charles blinked. "Is anyone against my wishes?" He looked about the table. Lacerte nodded in approval and Malboeuf did not make the slightest movement. It was Badeaux that grumbled something incoherently under his breath; it was evident that he hated the idea of Jeanne in general but he dared not repeat himself more than twenty times, and go against what the rest of the council had already agreed upon. But dear goodness, did he love to cavil!

"If that shall be all, then I believe that we must-" A knock on the door interrupted the Dauphin halfway into his sentence, making him mutter and clear his throat.

A soldier walked into the room. "Le Duc D'Alençon et Le Duc D'Alsace et Lorraine veulent voir vous." He announced.

"Let them in." Charles declared aloud. "My council, you are dismissed." He then looked at the rest of the members that remained within the council room.

The Council members stood and exited the room as they were replaced by the two cousins of the Dauphin. It was silent until the two younger males took a seat close to the future king.

Charles' eyes grew wide and he bit back some laughter, what happened to Francis? "How was your hunting trip, Francis?" He asked.

"It went decent."

"Did you get to hunt anything?"

"No, sire."

"I would think so; you took no hounds, no weapons, no horses..." The Dauphin could tell. "Now, where exactly were you?"

Francis kept silent as he took a damp handkerchief from his coat and cleaned his face with the cloth, he knew that the Dauphin was not stupid.

"Oh goodness, what happened to you?" Charles' could not believe how beaten up Francis was.

"A bar fight sent me to prison." It was a wonder that Francis could even say 'bar fight' let alone 'prison'.

"Prison? You are a Duke, what is wrong with you? Does anyone know of your imprisonment?" Charles could not believe his ears, had Francis finally gone insane as to be imprisoned for something so stupid as a bar fight?

D'Alençon sighed and shook his head for Francis was too afraid of what the Dauphin would say. "Nobody believed he was a duke. Since he was not wearing his ring of Dukedom and he was dressed as a peasant, no one recognized him. I disguised myself as a merchant and bailed him out."

"Francis, you used your tittle to try and get out of prison?" The Dauphin furrowed his brows in an exasperated way.

"I was in dire need of getting out, Jeanne had her meeting the following day, and I had promised to be there." Francis had explained.

"And Jeanne's meeting was _so_ important that you went to take a drink and got in a fight, right?" Charles lifted a dark eyebrow. "Look Francis... clearly it was not as important to you. Luckily, D'Alençon actually found it important and he was the only to insist in meeting Jeanne. We almost gave up on her, and We are glad that We did not, for if D'Alençon was not there, then Jeanne would not be here. You should thank your cousin and apologize to Jeanne, which We imagine you have not."

"I admit that I have made a big mistake, my Dauphin, and I have no excuse for my actions, I only wish for you to forgive me. Caring about Jeanne is caring about my country. I care a lot for what Jeanne does because I care more than enough for my country and for God."

"We will not exactly punish you, for We feel you understand not to do it ever again -judging by your physical state and the days you spent in prison -, but know that We will be more cautious of your requests," He shook his head in disappointment, "As for D'Alençon... please do not lie to Us or cover for your cousins mistakes again, it only makes Us question your loyalty, Understood?"

D'Alençon bit his lip as he slumped his shoulders and nodded. "Yes, sire."

"Very well then, I assume both of you understand and it will not occur a second time." The brown-haired male nodded in acknowledgement.

Francis was hesitant to ask but he decided it was in all of their interests if the Dauphin was to answer the question. "My Dauphin, if I may ask, do you believe that Jeanne can really deliver France and have you crowned in Reims?" He was looking at his hands and playing with his fingers.

"If God so wishes... then it will happen." The Dauphin replied, his voice was hushed and it was hard to hear him; Francis believed this was due to the Dauphin's fear. "I have trouble believing that the Lord chose me as the King of France. I had many siblings and I often ask why they were not the one's to be crowned instead."

"Do... you often think of them?" D'Alençon mumbled, noting that Charles had stopped using formal language, dropping the royal 'We' and simply sticking to 'I'.

"A little too often." The male admitted.

"Isabella? Joan? Mary? Miche-"

"Michelle, Louis, John, Catherine, Philip... Even Charles and Anne..." The Dauphin had many siblings; he was the fifth Dauphin, not even meant to be King. Charles, the first born, had died four moths after his birth. The second child; Anne, had passed away at the age of two. The second Dauphin, Charles, was always ill and also passed away at a young age, before the current Dauphin had even been born. Louis was the third male to obtain the tittle of Dauphin; he had a promising future ahead of himself... but died at the age of eighteen due to Dysentery. The fourth Dauphin had been John of Touraine, Charles had never known exactly how his brother had passed away. It was said that he died due to an abscess in his head, but others claimed he had been poisoned. Joan had been married to the Duke of Brittany, Isabella had been the wife of Richard II of England and later married the Duke of Orleans before her death during Childbirth, Mary had become an Abbess of which her mother had not approved, and Michelle had married the Duke of Burgundy. Catherine had married Henry V of England and gave birth to Henry, after both the deaths of Henry V and Charles VI, her son gained the English throne at only nine months of age. His claim to the French crown was disputed, Charles was the rightful Dauphin but the English insisted the the child was as much a candidate to the crown as Charles. The last child was Philip, who died days after his birth.

"Do you often think of your father?" The Dauphin questioned the Duke ahead of him.

D'Alençon chuckled and nodded. "A little too often."

"It is rather hard to believe that my own mother has betrayed me and gone to aid the English who have hurt our France so much. She claims to be helping France, but if she so does that... why is she helping the Burgundians destroy our villages and kill our people? Even you have suffered under the English and Burgundian wrath."

"Francis spent a better time in prison than I did. English prisons are... they are horrid. To think that I actually spent two years there and lost everything only to be free..." D'Alençon heaved, he would occasionally have nightmares of those dreaded years, he had only been fourteen when his father died and he had been captured.*****

"But that was long ago... you are no longer the Poorest Man in France." Francis tried to make the male brighten up, both males in that matter. "Lorraine is plagued with the enemy as well... I occasionally wonder when the English will advance and when it will be that I loose everything I have."*****

"If anything, you have Spain to take refuge in." D'Alençon smiled.

"I guess..." Francis nodded. "We all have Spain."

"Yolanda of Aragon, would gladly take Charles."

"How _is_ Isabelle?" The Dauphin mumbled.

"Isabelle? She is doing fine." Francis nodded not fully comprehending the Dauphin's question.

"Have you apologized to her?" The soon-to-be King inquired, lifting his eyebrow.

"Apologized?"

"For leaving her so suddenly. You could have been dead, for all she knew, or worse; you could have runaway with a mistress or god only know what."

"In a way. And I would never leave Isabel." Francis announced.

"Do it formally, along with your apology to Jeanne." Charles blinked and looked away.

"Come to think of it... Isabelle and Marie do not speak often. Although they are cousins, they are not much of friends, are they?" D'Alençon asked, his thoughts getting the best of him.

"Ah, Isabelle always remained in Spain or came here to French Court... while Marie remained in Naples. Yolanda and the King of Spain, Juan, always wanted an alliance with France. More of supporting France. The Infata, Isabelle, is to marry my cousin... as to not make it so formal that she marry me instead. They also have not married them off because they want to be sure not to be committed to a dying country. While making Marie marry me, it ensured a strong alliance, but not too strong." Charles explained.

"But Yolanda is still a great mother-in-law, I would think." D'Alençon smiled.

"She is the mother I never had." The Dauphin laughed.

"Why do you have Badeaux? He only cavils and talks like a parrot. You have Yolanda to support our country financially, why Badeaux?" Francis grumbled, everyone hated Badeaux.

"I do not want to take advantage of my Mother-in-law; She has been much support to me and a great ally of France. She deserves better than me spending her money; remember France is not her country."

"But Badeaux is a- let us not even get on that topic. Though I see what you are trying to say..." Francis groaned.

"Francis, although you might hate my council, you mustn't bad mouth them."

"It is not your council that I hate, it is Badeaux." He sighed loudly.

Badeaux might irritate you, but he still brings me money."

"Dirty money! He makes you sign blank papers so he could sell _your _lands and _our_ duchies off to the English. What kind of council member is he?"

"Francis..."

"Anyway," D'Alençon spoke again, he was not saying much in this conversation for he did not want to over step his boundary with the already upset Dauphin, "I think that we should not dwell much on the Subject of that man."

"Oh, Marie and I were thinking of having a small feast, to welcome Jeanne and learn more of her intentions with the French army. It will be small and only with people we would be comfortable around, save for the ladies of court. Would you like that?" Charles smiled.

"Oh yes, of course." Francis nodded.

"I will make sure that our little cousin is presentable, and does not look like a goof when we attend." D'Alençon chuckled.

* * *

"The Dauphine." She was announced as the Ladies watched the door open and Marie steped inside the Infanta's room.

Isabel's eyes grew in size and she dropped to a bow, followed by the blonde female.

"Cousin, dear, you need not bow." Marie smiled down at Isabel, who then stood and nodded. "How have you been?"

"I have been good, and you, my Dauphine?" Isabel tilted her head to her right.

"Ah, I have been good as well, Darling." She then noted that Jeanne was still bowing. "And you must be Jeanne... I have heard my fare share about you, you may stand."

Jeanne stood from her bow and nodded. "My Dauphine it is such an honour to meet you."

"As it is a pleasure to meet you."

"My Dauphine, I am happy that you will be queen one day for God has told me that you will be a good queen."

"Jeanne... A queen is like a Mother, and the country is her Child. Have you ever thought about it like that?" Marie inquired, her eyebrow rose to add effect.

"Actually, My Dauphine, I have not."

"You see," The Dauphine walked past Jeanne and sat down on the seat next to the fire place, "a Queen must take care of her country; she must clean it, feed it, clothe it, and care for it. She must show it love, and cradle it when it cries. She must hear the concerns of her child and make sure that the child will have all the best. That is how a Queen is a Mother."

"I had never seen it that way, but your highness is right. A queen is a mother and a King is a father..." Jeanne mumbled.

"And you must be it's saviour."

"Guardian Angel." The Infanta added.

"Guardian Angel." Marie repeated and smiled at the young Lady.

"Oh, I am no angel." Jeanne shook her head lightly. "Please believe me."

"When you are presented to the army, they will jump on one foot for they will be so excited that you have so graced them with your loyalty and presence. You are a hope to me and my country and I will never be able to repay you for it."

"I am not as great as you think, my Dauphine, it is all God."

"You are much too humble for your age, Jeanne, and that is indeed a very good thing."

"Thank you, My Dauphine." Jeanne nodded.

"Oh, Isabel... Are you feeling alright?" The Dauphine suddenly noticed that she had not asked, and it had been three days since Francis had disappeared.

Isabel tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean, my Dauphine?"

"I have not seen Francis in days, have you heard from him?"

"He recently returned."

"Oh! Has he? What exactly happened, if you so wish for me to know." Marie did not want to overstep the line, but she wished to know either way.

Isabel took a deep breath before speaking, "He was in a bar fight."

"A bar fight?" The Dauphine was surely taken aback by this answer, she did not expect Francis to be the man to get into mediocre brawls.

"Yes..." Isabel also sat down, on a seat across from the Dauphine.

"Is he alright? Did he serve time in prison?"

"We did not know where he was until today, which was when Jean decided to pay his bail at the local prison. Now he is speaking with the Dauphin."

Marie furrowed her brows and bit her bottom lip, "and is he physically well?"

Isabel rubbed her face and took yet another deep breath. "Her is rather bruised, but he will be fine..." she sighed, "I only fear that he could have broken a bone or something of that sort."

"I am glad to know that he has returned, and I only hope he will recover." Marie softly smiled, as she prepared to make her leave. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, there will be a small dinner tonight, would you like to attend?"

"Oh yes, of course, we will gladly attend." Isabel nodded.

"Good, then I will see you then," Marie stood from the small love seat and made her way to the door, "It starts at sun down and we will determine when it will be over when we are there, but for now, make sure you are not late, Jeanne is the Guest of Honour."

Jeanne blushed and opened her mouth to reject such title but the Dauphine paid no heed and instead left the room, leaving a very bashful Jeanne.

There was a silence between the girls, but it was not uncomfortable. Isabel stood and walked to the chest, pulling out the dress she would wear along with some shoes, she then pulled out a dress for Jeanne as well. "I could do your hair for you again, if you would like that."

Jeanne looked upon the older female and nodded lightly. "Yes, I would very much like that, Isabel."

"Good, because you had no choice either way." The Spanish Infanta laughed. "Come this way." She signaled.

Jeanne followed the command and walked up to the other female.

"Sit." Isabel smiled as she watched Jeanne do just that. "How would you like your hair?" She questioned.

Jeanne smiled back up at the Spaniard and shrugged. "However you wish to make it."

"A coiffure, decorated with plenty of braids; how does that sound?"

"That would be lovely."

A silence invaded the room, nothing to make them uncomfortable, it was rather calming, if anything. It took around a complete hour for Isabel to finish the hairstyle, and when she was finished; she was content with the outcome. Of course Jeanne would occasionally slump her shoulders and lean her head to one side, earning scolds from the Infanta. Jeanne's hair looked as if gold had been molded to look like braids. The Coiffure added volume to her locks, and the simple braids adorned her scalp.

"A beautiful hairstyle for a beautiful lady." Isabel smiled brightly and patted the other lady's shoulders."Put on the dress and I will lend you some jewelry." She had not meant to sound rude at all, but it had come out to be more of a demand than anything. "Oh, I am sorry." She apologized.

"Do not worry." Jeanne smiled. "I was not the slightest bit offended." Her shoulders were raised to form a small shrug, to show that it was not to worry over.

"Well, it is almost time, we must hurry and get changed for we must be there in about ten minutes, come, let us hurry."

* * *

**[1] Hahaha, did you catch my pun? A pheasant is a type of bird, and since it rhymes with peasant, it makes it funny...? You know, since it was a peasant who hit Francis... and peasant sounds like pheasant... and he was 'hunting'... Errr, kinda lame now that I think about it. Sorry for my lame puns.**

**Maybe The chapter was weird...I was listening to Mozart's Lacrimosa... it helps me write.**

**Le Duc D'Alençon et Le Duc D'Alsace et Lorraine veulent voir **vous** \- **The Duke of Alençon and The Duke of Alsace and Lorraine wish to see you**  
**

**IMPORTANT**

**Badeaux- He is based off of Monsieur de la Tremoille, who indeed supported the French army, except he also sent money to the Burgundians.**

*** AGAIN! This story is not 100% historically accurate. The explanation of Charles siblings is true, as for **D'Alençon**; He really was captured by the English and spent two years in prison, that was when he was around 16, 17, 18... but for the story, it will be earlier. Yes he had to sell everything he had to England in order to be free. He was called "The Poorest Man in France" because, although he held his title, he had no land or money. FINALLY, Alsace et Lorraine tried to stand their ground. They were loyal to none but the Dauphin, sadly they were surrounded by the English on all fronts, and even the Burgundians in some. They were considered English territory during that time. ***

**How did you all like the story? Was it good? Did you not enjoy it? Why? Do I need to improve? Is there something I need to fix? What did you like about the chapter?**

**Do not forget to leave a review; it motivates me, and if you have not yet done so, A favourite would be very appreciated. :)**

**I hope that you are all having a great day! Or evening, wherever you may be. And I hope to see you next time on High Above Me :)**

* * *

_**The adventure continues...**_

* * *

"This is just a tad bit awkward..." D'Alençon whispered to Jeanne. He did not like to be seated next to Caroline... but it was what it was. He could not complain for it had been the Dauphin who had seated them like such.

"It is not kind to whisper at the table, surely everyone is able to hear; unless it is a love confession, my dear cousin." Charles interrupted. "We all appreciate Jeanne's kindness and courage, you do not have to keep her all to yourself."

* * *

"How exactly did you land in jail, Francis?" The Dauphine cocked her head to the side, staring at the male.

Francis almost choked on the wine. He took the goblet from his mouth and cleared his throat, for it was currently burning with the sensation of the wine in his Pharynx.

* * *

D'Alençon did not have much. The English prison destroyed him and anything he had ever loved; they had robbed him of all his belongings; his fiancee, his people, his land, and his father. He was too young to endure this pain, but was not everyone too young? It killed him; it killed him to have given everything up only to save his life. It was truly selfish, but he could not endure another year of torture from the English; they had broken him.

He was weak when he entered the castle; bony, malnourished and oh-so weak. He had changed; he was no longer the cheerful boy he had been before; he was now a broken man. The prison had taught him reality; people were not always lucky. Cousins or Dauphins would not always pay for your safe return. When you needed someone the most, they would turn their back on you, leaving you alone.

No one was so lucky as to have someone well off enough or even nice enough to pay for a Duke. And D'Alençon was no exception whatsoever.

* * *

_**Sincerely,**_

_**~Ms. Atomic Bomb**_


	7. Waiting to Start Something New

**~Author's Note~**

**Hello everyone and welcome back to: High Above Me!**

**I am so sorry for the very late update but there has been a lot going on and school is killing me and these chapters take forever for me to write; I've specially been hung up on this one because it was so hard to explain some stuff that it was seriously getting me all agitated. I have finally updated after more than two months and I really do apologize for the inconvenience so please forgive me! Thank you for returning, you don't know how much of my life is being poured into this story and sometimes I wish it wasn't a fic so I could publish it, but that is not going to happen; I need to write something better than this and that is near impossible for I am already too lazy to write even a longer story. Anyways, I thank you for waiting for my update and I hope that you like the Chapter; it includes d'Alençon's past, Jeanne's complications and Court life... There will also be a new character next chapter so watch out for that cutie (I give you a sneak peak in this chapter)! Either way, I should be doing a project but I could not make you guys wait any longer. Thank you guys once more and I wish you all well in your lives!**

**Sincerely,**

**~Ms. AtomicBomb**

* * *

**_Chapter 7:_ Waiting to Start Something New**

"This is just a tad bit awkward..." D'Alençon whispered to Jeanne. He did not like to be seated next to Caroline... but it was what it was. He could not complain for it had been the Dauphin who had seated them like such.

The torches were the only to light up the atmosphere around them, the night was a little chilly and Jeanne was glad that Isabel had lent her a shawl. Never did she expect for the small party to be arranged in the palace gardens, but it was a beautiful night and she felt glad that they were enjoying nature, or so she thought.

"It is not kind to whisper at the table, surely everyone is able to hear; unless it is a love confession, my dear cousin." Charles interrupted. "We all appreciate Jeanne's kindness and courage, you do not have to keep her all to yourself."

D'Alençon blushed and chuckled, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "I was only thinking out loud, and Jeanne happened to listen."

"Of course." The Dauphin smirked.

"Sorry." Jeanne whispered towards the male that was seated next to her.

"It was not your fault." He smiled her way and turned back to the people at the table.

"So tell me, Jeanne, my dear, how do you –a peasant –intend on saving France?" Caroline inquired.

Jeanne was taken aback by the sudden question, and in some way she felt attacked for Caroline's tone was rather threatening. "Pardon, m'lady?"

"How do you intend on saving France? You have no real power, you are a women, and you are a peasant at that." Caroline almost spat.

"God wills for me to save France, and so I shall." Jeanne spoke.

"But surely you must be afraid of the battlefield."

"I fear nothing, for God is with me. He has promised French victory through my hands and I shall deliver it." Her words were strong and she held no hesitation in them.

The Dauphine clapped and smiled. "And it shall be so!" She cheered. "To Jeanne!" Her goblet was held up in the air so that the others would do the same, and so everyone followed in her toast.

The feast continued as everyone minded their own business for a rather elongated period of time. The food was rather delicious and Jeanne felt honoured to be the special guest. She had never been treated like such before, and feeling as if she was special made her feel happy. Although, she was not there to get the royal treatment.

"How exactly did you land in jail, Francis?" The Dauphine cocked her head to the side, staring at the male.

Francis almost choked on the wine. He took the goblet from his mouth and cleared his throat, for it was currently burning with the sensation of the bitter red wine in his Pharynx. He covered his mouth as he coughed uncontrollably and cleared his throat. "It's a rather long story." He wheezed.

"Entertain us." She smiled and clapped her hands, hoping that the male would quickly take the offer.

Licking his lips and clearing his throat once more, he began the embarrassing story. "He confused me for a girl." That was all he needed to say to make the table roar in laughter, save for Jeanne; who timidly tried to hide her laughter. "It is not as funny as you think."

"Domestic abuse, huh?" Morgana couldn't help but add on, causing d'Alençon to let yet another laugh escape his lips. "Must we call the authorities to aid you in your trouble, Lady Bonnefoy?"

Francis rolled his blue orbs, and leaned back on his seat, "My God, Morgana…"

"My duke." Jeanne warned as she viewed the male, his profanity not being able to slip past her.

"Sorry," he turned to her, "anyways he bought me a drink and after noting that I was not a lady, he started the fight."

"Are you sure that you did not start the fight, Francis?" D'Alençon laughed with a rather cocky tone.

"I am pretty sure."

"Were you not too drunk to recall?"

"I can assure you that I was sober enough to remember."

"I believe you, Lady Bonnefoy." And the table laughed again, causing Francis to blush in embarrassment.

"If I so may be excused." He stood from the table.

"You may not." The Dauphin smirked and watched as Francis sat back down. "I think it is only fair that we make fun of you since you had run away from all your duties. Jeanne was counting on you and We believe she deserves a well-thought out apology, do you not?"

Francis bit the inside of his lip and averted his gaze from the king-to-be, but as he did so; he locked eyes with the young female. A sigh escaped his mouth as he blinked a couple of times. "Forgive me, Jeanne." He spoke.

"And now they will sleep together." Caroline scoffed under her breath, quietly, but loud enough for d'Alençon to hear her.

"And maybe you could possibly, just possibly, have some respect for a duke and military leader, correct?" D'Alençon made sure not to make his mumble too loud, for he did not want Jeanne to be worrying about someone so meaningless.

"And maybe you should start acting like a duke. Maybe even a man, before running away like a little boy as you did all those years ago." Now she had done it. She had irritated him.

His jaw clenched for he was about to raise his voice for such an idiotic remark from her part, he was contemplating talking back to the lady, until he felt a hand on his. He looked towards the other young lady, who indirectly touched the back of his hand, with only a few fingers of her own. He noticed the soft smile on her features and he inched his hand away, not seeming to be rude, but rather not to attract attention. Rolling his eyes with a big huff, he looked at the Infanta that sat across from him and happened to recall his past.

D'Alençon did not have much. The English prison destroyed him and anything he had ever loved; they had robbed him of all his belongings; his fiancée, his people, his land, and his father. He was too young to endure such pain, but was not everyone too young? It killed him; it killed him to have given everything up only to save his life. It was truly selfish, but he could not endure another year of torture from the English; they had broken him.

He remembered how he was weak when he entered the castle; bony, malnourished and oh-so weak, he could no longer be considered a duke; he was duchy-less, and poor. No people to take care of and no father to turn to, he was doomed. D'Alençon had changed; he was no longer the carless boy he had been before; he was now a broken man. The prison had taught him reality; people were not always lucky. Cousins or Dauphins would not always pay for your safe return. When you needed someone the most, they would turn their back on you, leaving you alone to fend for yourself, even if you have nothing.

No one was so lucky as to have someone well off enough or even nice enough to pay for a Duke. And D'Alençon was no exception whatsoever. He recalled that he was working hard for his land, trying to marry and taking responsibility for what had to be done.

On month of his capture, he had left the castle early in the morning, only telling the Dauphin of his departure and arrived in Alençon by night fall, he had stopped along the way and given his horse and body guard a little break. It wasn't until the following morning that he met with his father. It had been settled that he was to take over the duchy after his father would pass. The duchy was rather lovely and they had talked of his duties when he was to take charge of the duchy himself. He was excited at that time for he really loved caring for his people and land, you could say that it was in his blood. He spent a month with his father and everything seemed perfectly fine.

But the English raised a siege against his duchy one fateful day, and he could safely say that it was the day his hope died. His father rode into battle on a gloomy afternoon, never to return or be seen again, it was the worst thing he had ever encountered. Within a mere number of days, his duchy was under English rule, his father missing and his hands cuffed. He was the prize of the year; a duke chained to some wall up on a tall tower. His people screamed in horror of the tyrant that ruled over them as chaos flooded the town, and he could not understand why England had so much hatred for France as to lead them to overtake it and crush all the people's rights.

A young boy had no reason to be chained to a wall, he had done nothing wrong in his life. He was still an unshaped and innocent mind, he had no evil within him; why was he chained like a criminal? Kept far from people so that he would not speak? Why was he ridiculed for being a young French boy? Why did the guards spit at him when he wailed in pain?

There was a point where he could not take it anymore and he screamed and cried out for help, the window could have been small but it was enough for him to scream out to the heavens so that someone would come to save him. Maybe an angel, maybe The Lord himself, but the only people who came were the guards. They beat him so that he would stop yelling and crying.

It was humiliating; losing everything he had in return for his freedom. But he could no longer bear the pain of English prison; his young mind could not take it. There was nothing that made him live; he was stained. A blotch of insanity tainting his pure soul, he was forever marked. Not only physically but mentally as well.

They did not even allow him a bath before he had been sent on a carriage to Chinon after he had traded everything he ever owned. Maybe the English had had enough of him, or maybe it was because they didn't need him anymore, but they jumped at the idea of throwing him out of the jail. His whine must have gotten to them, or possibly it had pushed them to guilt when he cried in the cell, but a sudden peace came over them at the idea that he was to disappear from their lives. Gone forever, and never to be seen in that prison.

The party had ended on a tense note and the people tried their best not to insult one another after someone had thrown a rude comment about Jeanne's purpose in the castle.

"D'Alençon, if you do not mind me asking –my duke –but how did you earn that scar on your wrist?" Jeanne inquired for she had noticed it throughout the entire dinner party.

"I-" His grey eyes had widened and he looked down, away from her.

"If you wish not to tell me, then you are not obligated to tell me." She mumbled lightly.

Icy grey eyes turned to her and that was when he realized; when he cried in that prison, when he screamed up to God awaiting an angel to come down to save him all those years ago, it was answered. His prayers had finally been answered and a saviour had come to save him from the English. And in that exact moment he noticed; his hope lived once again. And as her blue orbs remained locked with his own gaze, he felt obligated to tell her everything and he did. The words spilled from his mouth as he walked her to her chambers, he couldn't kept his experiences locked away any longer. Nobody knew how he had ever felt. He always tried to keep a happy face on, trying to drown those memories of his deep down so they would never surface. But once he did, once he spoke his mind for the first time, some sort of weight lifted off his shoulders. He felt free and he could not help but smile down at her.

She did not speak for she did not want to say something that stepped out of line and that possibly made him turn against her. But the silence was biting at her to speak up. "You went through a lot..." She mumbled lightly and looked up at him. "I would have never imagined the pain you have been through, but I'm slightly relieved because it really makes you stronger than you were before."

"I do not know what to think, really. It was traumatic and I am afraid of all that," for some strange reason he felt comfortable spilling his feelings to her, "I would not say it has made me stronger, but I also would not say that it has made me weaker. I am more understanding, and I know that I am no hero. You are much stronger than I am; the English hurt you so much and instead of harbouring some hate for them, as I have done, you rise up above them and wish to bring France out of the ashes, that it was soon to be buried with, along with you. It is the most courageous thing that I have ever encountered, and I am so glad that you are doing this for France."

"I'm not all that courageous, my duke." She smiled a little sorrowfully.

"Thank you, thank you." His eyes were filled with hope and purity that it made her return the gesture. "Thank you for wanting to do this for me, for my people, for France."

"Do not thank me, my duke, but thank God, for it is He who has sent me." Her small hand landed on his shoulder and he took it from its place and brought it to his lips, kissing it ever so lightly.

"Goodnight, mon ange." And that would forever be her name in his eyes. God had brought him the angel he so had longed for.

Jeanne blushed lightly, turning her face from his and nodded. "Goodnight, mon duc."

Her hand slipped from his and he watched as she entered her chambers; she was now his hope, she was everything he needed and everything he had.

* * *

**The Tale of d'Alençon and Caroline**

It had begun as a simple meeting; he had arrived at court once again, he was still weak and no one was willing to marry a landless young man. There was nothing to gain from him. No people, no land, no army, nothing. He had nothing to offer, only promises of his duchy; when it was to return into his hands once more. Of course, nobles believed these were empty promises and they dared not marry off their daughters to him. It had been very hard for him during that year. As he was back in court, he could not find a reason to live. His family had died and his people were taken from him, not to mention, he was only sixteen. There were times where he thought of ending his life for there was nothing to look forward to, but a voice in his head always convinced him that there were greater things coming his way; he would not believe it on occasion, but it still remained, the voice. Full of sweetness and love, awaiting for him to realize his blessings, not count his flaws.

"The poorest man in France? Maybe, but certainly the most handsome." A voice called beside him as he was heading for the table filled with food.

His head turned to catch a glimpse of the female who had spoken, no one ever talked to him during balls. If there was anyone it would be the Dauphin when Francis and Isabel were not at court. No one liked a landless duke. "Pardon?" He quirked an eyebrow and looked upon a dark haired young lady.

"Duke of Alençon, is it? Jean of Alençon?" Her eyes sparkled up at him.

He was startled, maybe she was teasing him and not actually there to genuinely make a conversation with him and help him make friends, considering the only friends he ever had nowadays were the ones in the Arena, where he had won the championship that year. "Yes." He nodded.

"It's sad when you have something in your grasp and then it slips through your fingers, right?" She took a grape from the pile and popped it into her mouth.

"It's sad when someone steals everything you have from you." He replied. Having something and it slipping from you was one's own fault, but if something that was yours and another tore it away was something horrible, maybe even detestable.

She nodded softly, "You know more of that than I do, and I can only imagine what you have gone through." Yet another grape disappeared into the gap between her lips.

"Maybe."

"You know, my duke, I can help you out of your problem." Caroline smiled up at the young man. He had seen her around court and always admired her beauty, she really was gorgeous, but he had never even exchanged a single word with her until that day.

He blinked, his grey eyes disappearing for a small while. "Really?"

"Yes, I was thinking if you would like to court me. What do you say?"

"Are you sure? I have no land, no money, I have nothing to promise you. Why would you like to court a poor young man?"

She chuckled and licked her lips. "Because I am a lady-in-waiting of the Dauphine; I need no money or land, so I want to court someone that I like." Her shoulders lifted in a short shrug.

"Would you not want a man who supports you?"

"As long as he loves me, I think I will be just fine."

"You like me?" He recalled her response to his previous question.

Nodding she spoke, "Oh yes, very much indeed."

"Really?" He could not comprehend why she had liked him, there was nothing appealing about him, even his face still had cuts from his imprisonment.

The rolling of her eyes made him intimidated, he was getting a little annoying with all the questions and so she took him by the wrist and dragged him out to the gardens of the castle. She believed it was more private and refreshing. "You talk too much." She hushed him before he had asked another question.

"Pardon me?" His brows furrowed and he tilted his head.

What had she just said? Without saying any further words, she pulled him down towards herself and planted a nice kiss on his lips. "Does that answer your question?" She whispered once their lips had parted.

A smile grew on his features and he wrapped and arm around her waist. "Yes, it does." And with that he stole a kiss from her lips.

They had courted for around seven months and he was in need of a marriage when Caroline had found the letter that his uncle had sent him. There was a young girl, a possible candidate for marriage, she was beautiful and kind and of course rich. Jean had taken her into consideration because whenever the topic of marriage came up in his and Caroline's conversations, it was quickly over turned and looked over. He could sense that she did not like the subject, but he needed to know. He needed to marry. Not wanting to rush her, and seeing as she did not care as much he, d'Alençon had wanted to leave.

It were his words that angered Caroline and caused her to slap him across the face. She was already upset with him and she couldn't understand why he would want to leave her. She had showed him love after such a huge tragedy in his life and she had shown him hope. At least that was what she thought she had given him, but he did not even return all that love. "I need to marry, and there are people who are much more serious than you are on the matter." He did not know why it had offended her, but it resulted in pain from his part and screaming from hers. She was furious, yelling things she swore she meant. "I hate you" and "I hope you burn in Hell", those were all the words he could remember, and since that fight he was determined to let her go.

Maybe he still loved her or maybe it was just horrible luck, but by the time that d'Alençon had replied to his uncle's request, the young lady had been married off. He was somewhat upset that he had lost both of the girls, but glad that he did not marry the other. Sometimes, as he walked through court, Caroline and him would lock eyes and she would scoff and glare at him, but he was only glad to see her. That was until she had spread a big rumour that he had money somewhere secretly, fooling everyone into thinking that he was poor. He did not know why she had spread it, or he did, but nevertheless he had felt betrayed upon learning that all the nobles were against him.

* * *

The entire month of September was a huge hassle; tests and interrogations had been prepared for her and she frankly did not like all the questions that she was asked. _Are you a virgin?_ Yes. _First Vision?_ In the manor of the Duke of Lorraine. _Any siblings?_ Three brothers; two deceased, one in an unknown location. _Mother and father?_ Deceased as well. _Who speaks to you?_ Archangel Michael was the first, followed by Sainte Catherine and Sainte Margaret as of recently. They were the same questions asked for three days, and varying ones every so often, but that was rare. The interrogations were making her nervous and the people were causing her anxiety and fear. She did not like some questions they asked, but they were left to be forgotten. The council could be so audacious and blunt, of which she truly disliked, but they were only making sure that she was the right one. As for Badeaux... that was a different story, he only hated her.

"I promised to teach you to hold and wield a sword, mon ange, well I am guessing that the interrogations have you annoyed, and this must be the best time to teach you the basics." D'Alençon stood at the doorway of the young lady's room.

Jeanne smiled but looked down at her dress, "Must I change?" She brought her head back up to meet his eyes.

"It would be rather convenient if you were to change, it is quite hard to move in a dress." He laughed lightly.

She nodded in approval and smiled up at him once more, "Wait here, for I will change into proper clothing and then we will be able to go."

"Yes, mon ange." He nodded and gave her a soft smile as she closed the door.

She walked towards the wardrobe and drew out the simplest clothes she had, a pair of riding pants and a simple red shirt, she would bind her chest thus it would not get in the way of her training.

As she removed the red surcote and let her hair fall from the braid it was originally held in, she had started to remove all the layers of her golden red dress. Once she was left in her undergarments she quickly disposed of the corset and the rest of the complications. It was a bit tricky to wrap the bandage around herself and it took her a rather long while, but once she did, she was glad that her chest was bound.

"I think you are ready to practice." D'Alençon's lips widened into a large smile as he saw that Jeanne opened the door and the only thing that made her feminine was her long hair that was tied in some sort of a pony tail.

"Yes." She smiled in return and nodded.

"Well, even if it took you more than half an hour, I am still ready." He laughed as she stepped outside her room.

"Forgive me for the wait, my duke, it's hard to be a women these days. There are so many layers and they take a million years to take off." She giggled for even when she was in her village too many layers would not even exist, save for winter.

There was a soft smile on his features as he took her hand in his and kissed it sweetly. "Now, let us see if you are able to hold a sword with these delicate hands."

"I have held axes and plows, my hands are not so delicate." She laughed lightly as a blush was evident on her pale cheeks.

"Then holding a sword shall be no problem for you, darling." The dark-haired male set her hand down gently and led her all the way to the training grounds.

The days were getting colder and colder for it was the middle of Autumn and she softly cursed herself for wearing thin pants. There was a soft slightly warm breeze which relaxed her and the sun was bright. "Here we are." D'Alençon smiled at the female as he turned towards her.

Wooden swords clacked against one another and the smell of sweaty men filled the air. There were archers in a corner and sword fighters in the other, the middle was occupied by jousters and lancers... She could not feel more at home than she was at the moment.

"Would you like to test your strength by holding an actual sword? Of course you will be training with a wooden sword, we don't want the maiden injuring one of our men, right?" D'Alençon joked and softly nudged her shoulder as she giggled lightly.

"We shall see if I am strong enough, and then we could start with jousting, it looks much easier than sword fighting." She reasoned.

"Don't be fooled by appearances, mon ange, a joust lance is much heavier than a sword."

"But a lance seems much easier to wield than a sword."

"The longer the weapon, the harder to get a grip on it."

Jeanne nodded lightly as he handed her his own sword. She closed her blue orbs and prepared for the heaviness of the sword as he let it go. It was rather heavy, but all the years she had helped her father during the harvest really paid off, she could grip it firmly and wield it quite swiftly. It had truly surprised her for it was a long sword and the hilt was iron, but she figured that if they were too heavy, the soldiers would get tired of fighting with them, and then she only imagined how heavy the jousting lance would be.

"Perfect." The Duke before her smiled brightly, there was a soft blush on his cheeks, but she could not make out if it was because of her or the cold breeze. "Are you ready to try the jousting lance?" He asked as he took the sword from her hands gently.

Shrugging she responded, "I suppose."

His smile widened and he helped her upon a black horse, that was the tricky part, for it had no saddle when she boarded it. As uncomfortable as it was, another weight was added to her body; the jousting lance. By the time that the weapon was in her hands, most men had stopped their training and gazed at the female. "You must hit that target." He pointed at a small wooden circle on a long pike, she immediately knew that it would start to spin by the time she hit it.

"Wish me luck." Now the pressure was on. The lance was getting heavier as the eyes of her men viewed her. This was her time to show them that she was strong enough to lead the army, that she was the leader they needed. If she failed this, she would be labeled a failure. Such a simple task, but so much on the line.

"God is with you." He could see the fluster in her eyes, and he reassured her with a soft loving smile.

"And so He is." As she had said this, she lowered the visor of the helmet he had given her. _This is it_. Either she was respected or ridiculed, and whichever it might have been, she was ready.

Her eyes closed on the target and the only thing she could think of was the lance in her hands and her objective.

Loud cheers filled the air as a satisfying sound of wood on wood filled her ears. The impact had hurt her shoulder but she was beyond over joyed. Now that the men had gone crazy over her lucky aim, the entire training troop had refrained from their practice and enclosed their attention on her. "Again!" They called and she rounded her horse so that it would start in its beginning position.

The horse began to gallop and the wood clashed against the lance. Although it would still be spinning, she would hit it again, and again, and again. Her heart fluttered as she stopped her horse and removed her helmet once d'Alençon had taken the jousting lance from her hands. "A natural." He grinned as the beads of sweat glistened down her forehead. She swiped the sweat off her brow while failing to keep her content inside.

The men hurried for her and cheered words of hope and encouragement._ Such a simple task, such a grand success_. The men talked with her all day telling her about the battlefield and about their adventures around France. They told her of family and lovers and she felt truly accepted by the small troop of soldiers, they all seemed so kind that it was too surreal for her. Her first day of practice only consisted of holding a sword and hitting the target with the jousting lance five times and simply talking all day. Of course these men were all quite new to the army. They were only involved in at most two battles and a few raids, nothing major but they were still full of hope and much more experienced than her.

It had never really struck her that she was surrounded by killers until a man mentioned the first time he had taken a life. He had said that it was the worst feeling in his life and after he had confessed he had felt relieved and freed, but no matter how many times he repented his sin, he would only continue to kill. _Pawns_; soldiers were pawns working for a country to rid it of evil, or even be the evil of the lands. Of course war was war and lives were lost, and they might have been killers but they were not murderers. Murderers were cold and guiltless, while these soldiers were repenting and understanding. They knew of the families that other soldiers had and how they would react upon the news of a father missing in the battlefield, or a son confirmed dead. It was hard to see their friends fall and their families mourn, but it was what it was.

The month had gone by and even more tests and inquiries had been done to her, she was getting tired of it, but d'Alençon would always find time to train her, and that was her type of escape. On the last Sunday of October he had offered to help her with her archery skills, for they were not the best at the moment.

"Concentrate." He smiled lightly as he held the bow in his hands. "The target is all you can see, it is all you need to pay attention to." Then he took a deep breath and closed a single eye. The arrow tore through the air and in less than a second it had punctured through the target's heart.

Jeanne clapped her hands together and he smirked at her. "Simple right?"

"But how do you hold it?" She questioned as her blond eyebrow lifted and hid itself under her bangs.

"Come here." He motioned for her to step closer and she did, taking one single step and he handed her the bow. He took her left hand and placed it on the wooden grip. "First we must determine your dominant eye."

"And how do we do that?" He chuckled at her response and took her right hand to place it on the serving part of the string.

"You must close on eye and shoot the arrow at the target, then do the same for the other. Whichever arrow lands closer to the target determines your dominant eye."

"Oh," she nodded, "how do you shoot?"

His left hand remained on hers as his right reached for the bucket that held the arrows. He placed the arrow on its rest and connected it to the nocking point. "I will guide you." He whispered for he was rather close now. He helped her with her hand position when holding the arrow. "Like this." He mumbled and guided her to holding it.

"Okay."

"Now pull back." His hands were ghostly dancing over hers, steering her in the right procedure. "Close one eye and aim at the target."

"Hmm." She hummed as she closed her right eye and aimed at the dummy's heart.

"Now let go." Upon following his instructions her arrow flew across the air and barely missed the target, hitting it in the left arm. "Now the other eye."

The same procedure was repeated once he had replaced the arrow and now she had hit the dummy closer to it's heart, not exactly there, but close enough to determine the dominant eye.

She cringed at the pain of the string whipping her forearm. "Ah." She groaned as dug her nails into the bow.

"The pain should make you happy, Jeanne, you have learned how to use a bow." He grinned at her and took the bow from her hand only to set it down and aid her in her pain. "Now you must wear an arm guard."

She laughed and nodded, "I guess I must."

He soothed her forearm by softly rubbing the pain away, although at first it was not working. "Today is dedicated to archery and tomorrow we start with sword fighting." She had not yet begun with sword fighting for her skills were perfecting in other areas at the given moment.

It had been three months of her in the castle and she was starting to grow irritated. She needed to save France but only tests were preformed. She could have been out in the battle field except she was indoors answering questions.

Her sword fighting was phenomenal and she was rather talented in the art. Lances, other than jousting were her enemy, but she was good at the sword. Maybe not the best, but definitely not the worst either. D'Alençon was not the only one to help her train, Isabel and Francis always helped her out as well. Francis had usually helped her with battle strategies and the political aspects of things; teaching her everything about the history of the war and The Battle of Agincourt. He also taught her of the Dauphin's father and his treacherous mother. At first she could not understand how a mother could betray her family like such, but there were good people, and there were bad people in the world.

* * *

The snow fell outside of the castle and the days were quite cold, causing her to shiver every now and again. But the shawls that Isabel had lent her were always cozy enough to keep her warm. She had decided to take a walk in the grounds of the palace gardens, her own time alone. The bones in her body ached and even her head was thumping for she was tired from all the training, but she kept her head held high and only thought of Orleans.

"_Jeanne..."_ A voice whispered and she looked around for the source but she could not find any, after recognizing the beautiful voice, she figured it to be Saint Michael's. "_It is time to take back Orleans, Loving Child. Go to the Dauphin and tell him that there is a siege being held right now, Orleans will loose yet again. You must go."_

"**Tell them that you must save Orleans**." This time it was not a man's voice, but rather a woman's; full of love and sweetness. One she knew as Sainte Catherine.

"You must. It is essential to leave as soon a possible; there will be no salvation without you, Child." Another woman's voice added, edging her to tell the Dauphin. It was Sainte Margaret.

"I will do as asked. I am God's and I will do as He wishes." She nodded lightly and strode back towards the castle; she would go to the Dauphin right that instant and she would tell him what she knew. If she was called to Orleans then she must go as soon as physically possible.

A knock on the door interrupted the generals and a groan came from the King-to-be as the doors opened. "My Dauphin, there is a siege in Orleans right now." She informed.

"How do you know?" The Dauphin was upset that Jeanne would interrupt the meeting but he hoped she was right.

"My council. I have consulted with them and they have given me this information."

"Your council?" Badeaux scoffed, nearly laughing.

"As your highness has one, I too have one. I have explained that my council does not make mistakes for it is Heaven sent, and they tell me that there is a siege being held in Orleans right this instant; they call for me to be in Orleans. I must liberate it as soon as possible." She ignored the plump man's tease.

"Go back to your chambers, little girl." The same man hissed.

"I am wanted in Orleans." She retorted. "And God is the one that wants me there. You cannot avoid the Will of God."

"If He so wishes to have you there, then would you already not be there?"

"With all due respect, Monsieur Badeaux, but you cannot question God's power. Now, if you would please not ridicule me." He was clearly offended by her words and he had a bitter expression on his features but he refrained from speaking any additional words.

"If there so is a battle, as you say, we will know by the evening and if you are correct, We promise to take you to Orleans." The Dauphin stated.

"Then I hope you are ready to keep that promise." She spoke, her lips in a straight line and her face indifferent.

"We are."

"Good. I will prepare." She nodded and exited the council room after excusing herself.

Just like the Dauphin had said, a messenger arrived at the castle doors, panting with hair a mess and his clothes muddied and torn. He was shaking as he was let in to see the Dauphin.

"What is it, messenger?" The young Dauphin inquired and looked upon his squire first then to the new male.

"There had been an attack on Orleans this afternoon, it was too strong. I had to run, my Dauphin."

"Are you positive?" The Dauphin tilted his head, not believing the messenger's words.

"Yes sire. The city was burning." He was terrified and rather scared.

"Orleans was under siege? How long have you been on foot?"

"Around nine hours sire, the sun was at its peak when I left."

"Thank you." The king-to-be sighed and dismissed the man so he could be cleaned and fed. The hard part was telling Jeanne that she was right, she would surely demand to be in Orleans and he did not have the time and anything to take her there.

"You have called upon me?" Jeanne entered the council room, where the Dauphin was the only one seated.

"Jeanne... You will be going to Tours for your final test." He licked his lips for they were rather dry.

"A final test?" She tilted her hear. "My Dauphin, what kind of test?"

"The final test."

"Yes, the final test, but what is_ the final test_?"

"You will be examined to see if you have kept your virtue."

"My virtue? Your majesty, have I not already showed you my faith, is it really necessary?" Now she was the one that was terrified, she knew very well how they tested a young woman's virtue.

"It is the Final test, I have promised to take you to Orleans and that is the last step for qualification, you should be in Orleans three days after the test." He explained. "You must comply, we leave for Tours in two days' time."

"If that will show you that I am Heaven sent, then that is what I shall do. Please forgive me for my inquiry, I was only a little afraid." She did not want to irritate him or cause any bumps in their relationship, and so she apologized for something she should not have. She might have been a little irritated but she knew that she could suppress it for a while longer and that she would get over her complications quickly, they were not to take over her. "May I excuse myself, my Dauphin?" She looked up at him, with a forced smile on her lips. She wanted to be patient, but it was hard after being in the palace for seven months with only tests preformed on her over and over.

"You may." He nodded and watched as she bowed before leaving.

* * *

Everyone had heard of her, Tours was in pure bliss. It had taken them a while to get her past the excited crowd and into the un-completed cathedral where she would have her final test. The hope of the people made her smile, but she knew that she was nothing without God. And although the people cheered for her, they needed to understand that she would have never made it as far as she was currently at without the Grace of God. Upon entering the huge cathedral, she was ushered up the staircase and sent in to a very small room on the tallest part of a tower. The Dauphin had stated that it was all part of procedure to make sure that she was indeed a virgin.

Once she had taken a step into the room she met with the Dauphine's mother; Yolanda of Aragon. The young girl was told to sit down on the bed as they examined if she was actually a virgin or not. The bed was cold, even if it was April and the days were starting to get a little bit warmer. By the time that she had finished, she felt humiliated. Her jaw clenched in sadness as she had tried to fight back tears, and she tried to not think of it as humiliation, but as a necessary step for her to save France; it was for the greater good of the country.

It had taken her around an hour of silence to be able to stand with dignity again, she shook lightly but she felt someone helping her up so that she would not fall back down. She felt her council's presence and it immediately made her feel stronger, but of course she was still physically weak. Her legs were shaky and unstable as she made her way down the long circular staircase, she feared that she would trip and fall, but she swore that something kept her steady. Her legs might have felt as if they were piles of jelly, but she was helped down the ridiculously long staircase.

"You are going to Orleans." The Infanta bore a huge smile on her lips that Jeanne couldn't help but return the gesture. She had finally done it; she was going to liberate the city of Orleans!

"I am sorry for all these tests, but we did not want to make a mistake; and we did not. You will be going to Orleans in ten days' time." The Dauphin walked towards her.

"In ten days? I'm sorry to sound rude but we should get going now." She stared up at the male with the most serious of faces.

"You must be patient, Jeanne."

"Have I not already been patient enough? I have been questioned for a months on end; four months to be exact and another three spent doing nothing, I have gone to countless meetings and I have even been violated," -she had not wanted to use the word but it was the one she resulted using -"I have waited my fair share of time, and so has Orleans."

"You should be grateful that I have kept you in court and that I have bestowed upon you the privileges of a military leader." The Dauphin was offended with the way Jeanne was speaking and his tone was not all that caring.

"And you -my Dauphin -should be grateful that God has sent me to crown you, to make you the official King of France, not some English child. God wishes for me to liberate Orleans as soon as I can, and now is the time." Her tone was offensive for a future King, and he must have looked horribly mad so that Francis had to intervene.

"Jeanne, you must rest first, the Dauphin wishes for you to be well rested so that we could leave in three days' time. It was a surprise." Francis smiled as he shot the Dauphin a look that meant that his orders for the army needed to change and that she was indeed to head to Orleans in one of the upcoming days.

The blue-eyed girl looked at the Dauphin for a while longer and nodded. "Alright." Her answer was short and straight forward. Frankly, she was a little angered with Charles but she tried her best not to bark at him and keep her temper under control. He had promised that she would leave for Orleans as soon as her examinations had finished and her reasons for saving France were clear, but that was a broken promise and she did not want any more for then she could not even trust her own Dauphin.

She was escorted from the Cathedral and out to the town once more, where the people cheered her name and tried to get a glimpse of her face. People waved at her and she would wave back. Why would the Dauphin not act more like his people? Why would he not simply accept her and send her to Orleans as she had asked from the beginning of her stay in the castle? The people were so hopeful in her and they actually trusted her, but the Dauphin had to run her through an endless amount of tests when he knew that she was already heaven sent.

She was taken to the house of the mayor, where she would spend the upcoming days. On the first night, she tried not to stay awake the entire evening over meaningless worries; to her disadvantage, she was restless the following morning. Her mind was hung up on Orleans and she was trying to hear the voice of Michael speak to her, but he had not done so in a couple of days, which had really upset her. The bags that formed under her eyes were visible by then and the Mayor's wife had asked her if there was anything that she needed, or that if she was feeling ill. Jeanne would eventually respond with a simple 'I am feeling well, only a little tired, but nothing to worry over.'

It was when d'Alençon had arrived to greet her that she was able to sit down and rest her bones. But the news that came to her made her irritated and angered. She was not to go to Orleans in the upcoming days.

"The Dauphin promised me that I would be in Orleans in two days, why will he not keep his promise? Has his judgment failed him? Am I not enough in his eyes?" She grit her teeth in despair.

"Mon ange, you must rest, you look sleepless. If you show even the slightest bit of weakness will the soldiers not take that for advantage, my dear?" He softly smiled. "Rest, for the Dauphin will complete his promise and you shall be in Orleans in a mere number of days. Prepare yourself, ange, for you have a long journey ahead of you. Enjoy this time for soon, you will be carrying France on your shoulders."

Jeanne closed her eyes and rubbed her cheeks, "Alright. I will do as you say." She breathed out, "But, if in seven days I am not in Orleans, I will leave on my own accord. My Lord wants me there and He is higher than any Dauphin or King on this earth; I listen to Him before my very own Dauphin."

"I will warn Charles for you, and I am sure that he will make the army march for Orleans and you will be leading the French to victory." D'Alençon assured, taking one of her hands in his. "Be patient, darling, everything comes with time."

"Everything comes with God." She mumbled as a retort and he nodded.

"And God is patient, is He not?"

"Yes..." She seemed like a scolded child, but his words were soft, nothing to irk her.

"Then be patient, and show the Dauphin that you are everything I need; everything_ France_ needs." He reworded as a small blush kissed his cheeks.

"Okay. I will be patient." Her blond head nodded lightly as he stood.

"Well, then I must be off." He smiled down at her as he stood. "Have Patience and God will lead you to greatness."

Now, that... that might have been Jean d'Alençon speaking, but they were the words of Michael. His sentence caused her to stand on her feet abruptly and call out to the male before he would leave.

"Yes?" He turned once she had called his name.

"Thank you, my duke." Her heart warmed and seemed as if it fluttered in her chest. "Thank you."

His features softened and he smiled at her. "You're welcome?" He was not exactly sure why she was thanking him, but it made him feel contented that she seemed so grateful.

Jeanne waved him off as he left the house and she continued her way back up to the room she was assigned, where she fell back on the bed and felt as a wisp of peacefulness washed over her, letting her finally close her eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

_She climbed a ladder, banner in hand and a look of determination on her facial features. She was determined to win this battle; God had promised, and He was not like the Dauphin to be making empty promises, so it was to be completed. They would win and that was that._

_Jeanne hooked the banner on her leather belt and climbed up and up the ladder. Her hands hooking to the wooden structure as she got closer to the top of the wall. She yelled for her men to follow her up the ladders, and upon seeing the young girl's braveness, they too joined her._

_Her courage built, and her determination standing upon a firm foundation, she continued her way up, but as she went to reach for the next step, arrows came pouring down. Losing her balance and letting her foot slip, an arrow consequently hit her right below the left side of her collar bone; tearing her shoulder muscle and breaking past her Scapula. Her hand too slipped from the contraption, and with a simple shake of the ladder from the English, she fell from the structure and landed with a rather hard impact._

_She did not even have time to cry out before her eyes closed._

* * *

It was her own scream that woke her up, she swung up to sit on the bed as she panted loudly, sweat glistening her forehead and her hair a bit damp. Her mouth was dry and a bit of blood sprung form the crack on her lower lip. It took her a long while to even out her breathing, and then she had noticed that it was late and raining hard outside.

The falling rain calmed her down and she kept telling herself that it was only a simple dream. It was her anxiety, her mind casting tricks on her, scaring her and trying to make her back out of her fate. God would not let her die like that. She would not die in battle, at least that was what she told herself. She would not get injured, she would not get harmed; it was only her mind.

When she stood from the bed she felt rather weak, her hands shook and her head hurt. She would grab a goblet of water and sit next to the window, to calm herself from the nightmare. "It was only a dream." She would mumble as her legs shook at every single step she took. It was even harder for her to descend the stairs at a steady rate. And she felt the pain she had felt the previous day at the Cathedral, which made a chill run down her spine, filling her body with goosebumps. It would not happen again.

Upon entering the kitchen she met with one of the maids and greeted her.

"What is it that you need, my lady?" The women asked.

"I only came for a goblet of water." Jeanne smiled and went to the tank of which they kept the water in.

"I could do it for you, mademoiselle."

"There is no need, I would do it all the time back in my home." She assured. "It was nice to do it for my family, make dinner I mean." She saw that the maid was already caught up in her duties.

"You did?" The other questioned, a brow lifting.

"Yes, I am from the country. A little village in Lorraine, sadly it no longer stands..." Her voice trailed lightly and she remembered the day.

"A Lady from a village?"

"Oh, I am no noble. I am the Maiden."

The young woman was surprised even more so, her features lit up and she dropped what she was holding. "I-I…" It was hard for her to speak. "I was never told that the Maiden was staying at this estate. My dear Maid, thank you, thank you for coming to save our beautiful country."

Jeanne smiled at her and took her hand in her own, "I am not the one to thank, and it is God that has sent me."

"Then it is He that I thank." The housemaid smiled even brighter and held onto Jeanne's hand tightly.

Jeanne did not know how describe it; the women's features had softened and there was a small smile on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with something Jeanne knew so well; _hope_. She too had experienced it when Francis had taken her in for care.

* * *

**Yay! You guys read the chapter! Congratulations! Took me forever to write but it wasn't even that good... Well I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Here we see that Jeanne starts a little bashful, but by the end of the chapter she is more accepting to her fate. I think that this was important for this chapter because in the next chapter things really start to move; she will arrive in Orleans and man is that going to be a roller coaster! So are you ready for the sneak peak preview of the new character? Yes? No? Keep that for the next chapter? Tell you now cause I don't know how long it will take for the next update?**

**Here we go!**

* * *

**_The adventure continues..._**

* * *

_It was very foggy. The night was dark and a thick and tall layer of fog covered the land. This had made it easy for a soldier to escort Jeanne to Orleans. She did not know the General who had walked her from the wood towards the city for about two kilometers. Jeanne thought how dangerous it really was, it was only her and the general, they carried no torches, no matches, only his sword and her banner. She had left her sword behind for another soldier had promised to bring it to her the following evening. It had felt like they had been walking for an hour, but it surely had to be less time, they had been really silent and she was sure that no English forts had spotted them, considering it was rather dark and the fog covered them. An arrow tore through the air and had missed her by mere inches and she almost gasped._

_"Keep still." The general hushed her and she did as asked, then after another short while they began moving again._

_She was shaking by the time they had reached the river that surrounded the great city of Orleans. She had finally arrived, but her journey was not over yet, she needed to enter the actual city, and that was the hard part. Surrounded on all fronts, Orleans was the hardest city to enter, but due to the ecosystem around it, it was the hardest to take over._

_"Jeanne d'Arc, this is the Bastard of Orleans." The general spoke as they had met two men by the edge of the river. The taller one blinked at her and shortly examined her._

_"I thought you would be taller." The Bastard quietly joked and gave her a small smirk._

* * *

**SOOOO?! Are you excited? I sure am! I hope you can guess who the new character is? Could be the General, could be the Bastard, could be the other guy next to the Bastard... could be the fog, could be the arrow ;) Well I hope you guys liked the preview and I hope to see you next chapter on High Above Me. Thank you again for reading and for your dedication, I am glad you have read up to this point! Please look forward to the next chapter and I hope to see you there!**

**Have a great evening, day, week(s) and/or month(s)! Haha last one's a joke. Is it? Is it really? 'Tis, 'tis a joke.**

**With love and thankfulness,**

**~Ms. AtomicBomb**


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